Fever
by Jayfeattheris Awesome
Summary: AU. Thanks to the Fallen, a deadly disease racks the City, the Reef... and the Queen. To save her, Uldren must put his dislike of Guardians aside... AND resist shooting the idiot he was partnered up with. "Wipe that grin off your face; the world is horrible! Take off that stupid fedora! QUIT CALLING ME 'PRINCESS'" Unfortunately for him, a full head of hair is not required. REVAMPED
1. That Darned Fedora!

**It's always a fedora...**

That Danged Fedora!

Uldren vaulted over the boulder, eyes watering as he ripped his helmet off, the volcanic fumes assaulting his senses and giving him a sudden feeling of vertigo. He tossed the damaged, now-useless helmet onto the ground, and stood out of his cover to fire off several shots at the Fallen that were chasing him. He looked quite differently than he normally did.

The first and foremost difference was that his hair had been cut to roughly the same very short length, though one side was slightly longer than the other; a rushed job, obviously. The second most noticeable thing, was that he sported a very prominent bruise on one side of his face. On one forearm, a now-dirty bandage was wrapped around an unseen wound, and the corresponding hand was dressed likewise. A bandage was also wrapped around the area just below his right knee.

His armor was in as much a state he was in. His cloak was gone completely, the metal parts of his armor was beaten, dented and scuffed in places, the fabric parts crusted and stained with mud(and blood,in the case of his bad arm and leg), and there were even several tufts of grass caught on a piece of his shoulder plating.

Personally, he blamed _her_ for the state he was in.

His handcannon clicked uselessly when he pulled the trigger, and his hand shot to his pocket. He cursed under his breath when he found it to be empty, devoid of any and all ammo. And his backup rifle had been destroyed by that stupid Captain. He ducked behind his cover again, taking out his knife.

All he had to do was wait for them get close enough, then he could at least stab the heck out of them before he got taken down by the Vandal snipers and their cursed wire rifles.

He crouched, knife at the ready, and a Dreg came around the boulder, blades raised to strike. However, before either of them could stab the other, a sound made the Dreg stop, straighten up, and scan the area around it. It screeched at something to the North, and Uldren risked a glance in that direction.

 _Never thought I'd be happy to see that danged fedora!_

A Sparrow dipped, dove, and leaped amongst and over the volcanic slope, its fedora-wearing driver letting out an eccentric battle cry. The assaultingly shiny red hat was easily noticeable against the black ground, and its owner's aviator sunglasses let off sharp flashing reflections of the sun whenever it managed to shine through the clouds above.

Her Sparrow was colored blue and black, with an odd extension coming out of the back of it for a second rider. The blue sides, he knew, had thin blades running along them, and the black middle and front would be oddly reinforced for on-the-fly roadkill carnage.

The owner also appeared to be wounded, even from where he stood Uldren would see the slick crimson coating one of her arms.

Seeing where she was aiming, he backed up quickly. The Dreg turned on him and snarled.

"Goodbye." Uldren told it as it began to advance on him. It didn't take one step before the front of the Sparrow slammed into it, sending it flying.

Uldren caught hold of Silverhawk's outstretched hand, and swung onto the back of the Sparrow.

"Sayonara, suckers!" Silverhawk yelled over her shoulder, lifting her bloodied hand off the handle of the Sparrow to flip them the bird.

"Why did you take your helmet off? These fumes are poisonous?" He yelled over the rush of the wind and hailstorm of missing bullet fire from the Fallen.

"These glasses boost my ego on a Sparrow, and you're one to talk." She responded cheekily, elbowing him in the ribs. He glared at her. "That, and I had to use my powers. It feels weird using arc blade with my face covered. Why'd you take your's off?"

"It broke. I couldn't see anything. Did you get the cure?" he yelled, trying not to cough at the unbearable fumes that the volcano was giving off.

 _I can't wait to be off this miserable rock._ He though this of Earth, not the volcano. Though, also the volcano, seeing as it _was_ part of Earth.

He hated Earth so far.

"I…I got shot. The cure was destroyed." Silverhawk admitted sheepishly.

"WHAT!?" his shout made her jump, and the Sparrow swerved.

Suddenly, a blast of scorching heat hit them from below, sending the sparrow hundreds of feet into the air, fiery droplets of lava sending searing bolts of pain where ever they landed on the two riders bodies.

They both screamed as they began to fall.

 _ **"Okay, maybe we should stop it right there. In case you haven't noticed… yes, that is me. And yes, the idiot with a fedora is my partner."**_

 _ **"Now, your probably wondering why and how I got partnered with such an imbesile. Your also probably wondering about the 'cure' that I mentioned. Now, this is a fairly long story, So I'll just tell it as it is, and I'll let you fill in the rest of the details, if anyone ever bothers listening to this recording, anyway."**_

 _ **"And I'll tell you right now, I had a perfectly good reason for videotaping everything that happened on this mission; I knew that whoever I was partnered with would mess everything up eventually, and I didn't want to be held accountable for someone elses idiocy."**_

 _ **"So,here I go."**_

 _ **"It all started with a young Warlock in an old, dark pit that used to be a light-forsaken Bio Lab…"**_

 **Okay, so I've been playing Destiny recently, and I suddenly realized that aside from River Tide, I haven't done any comedy fics. Then I thought it would be funny if Uldren somehow got stuck on a mission with a Hunter wearing a fedora. Why a fedora?**

 **Because I've been watching a lot of Doctor Who recently as well!**

 **I'm going to go completely all out with this character! ^^**

 **Review Challenge: Do you or do you not think that sometimes Ghosts find their guardians as children? I mean there had never been a Guardian before there were Ghosts, but that doesn't mean that the first Guardians were all undead, right? There has to have been some living ones. What do you think it would be like, growing up with a Ghost? If two Guardians got married, would their ability to use Light as a weapon be passed down to their children?**

 **READ AND REVIEW!**

 **Cheers!^^**


	2. Where It All Went To Heck

**Back to the past, where everything goes wrong and right at the same time.**

Emnett put a bullet in the Dreg's head, and stepped over the falling body. The building was huge, and it had taken them all day to find this room. The rotting tower stood hundreds of feet high, and they had climbed up and down both sides of it, hunting for their quary. His Ghost had detected odd signals and comm interference for the entirety of their search, though they hadn't stopped to investigate it.

And after climbing stairs all day, _at an angle_ , Emnett didn't want anything to do with the signal source that was at least fifty floors above him at the moment. The room they were in was trashed and old, wires and cables scattered and tangled all over the ground from where the Fallen had ripped them out. Everything looked rusted, and a few plants and moss had taken root inside, despite there not being any dirt. The moss squished softly under his boots as he walked in, and there was a few desks and ruined consoles in the room. One console lined one side of the room, a broken chair lay on it's side on the other side of the room in front of a curving, broken, holodesk, which, in it's time, could project images and controls from the projector in it's middle.

"You know, there isn't as much resistance here than I thought there would be." He commented as his Ghost materialized beside him. It was true; there were few Fallen, though most of them, for some odd reason, had King's colors on them.

"The console should be right over here." He Ghost said, floating over to the far end of the room. Their mission was to locate and retrieve a series of files containing research on the darkness that had been done during the Collapse and early Dark Age. Contrary to some beliefs, the Collapse didn't just _happen_. It occurred over a period of time, about a century, beginning with the arrival of the Fallen and their initial invasion. Then came the Cabal some time after that. As Warmind after Warmind was destroyed, the Vex woke on Venus and Mercury, turning the garden world into a molten war machine before the Traveler stopped them and went silent.

With that act, the Dark Age had begun. As the vex were put to a halt, a cloud had formed beneath the Traveler, and then the orb went silent. But then this cloud began to disperse, and lowered itself to the ground. They were the Ghosts. Hundreds of fairly confused little robots, uncertain of what they were or what they were supposed to do. Then, perhaps, a Ghost had found a body. A corpse. And then, perhaps, they had discovered they could re-animate this corpse.

At some point, the first Guardian had risen, and the Ghosts spread out over the worlds, looking for their own Guardians. But the darkness pressed on, harder than ever with the death of the Traveler, pushing humanity from anywhere and everywhere they had re-claimed since the start of the Collapse, and labs like these, colonies and villages out in remote, hidden places, had been either abandoned or destroyed. Ikora believed that the research within this particular lab could be invaluable.

As his Ghost began scanning, Emnett walked farther into the room, and was startled out of his skin as a Vandal shot out from the doorway off to his side. It loomed up in front of him, and gripped him by the shoulders, snarling madly. He felt a wet spray hit him in the face as he hit the Fallen with the palm of his hand, channeling void light outwards. It let out one more insane gurgle as it flew back and hit the ground.

"You okay?" his Ghost asked, letting out a few clicks and whirls of distress.

Emnett reach up to wipe the wet stuff off his face, only to find that his skin was completely dry. _Hmmm. Weird. Maybe I've been on Venus for a little too long then? Or maybe it's the ration packs?_

"Yeah, I'm find. Let's get those blueprints and get out of here." He said. "I've had enough of Venus to last me a lifetime."

"Right." His Ghost agreed before turning back to the console. He turned once to look at his Guardian again, but then proceeded with the scanning.

 _ **"** **Take a wild guess at what that fallen did? Yeah, pretty obvious, I know. It just goes to show how utterly**_ **stupid** _**humans are."**_

Back at the Tower, Ikora praised the young man as he presented his prize to the Vanguard.

"I told you he would make it. And you call us nerds, Cayde?" She challenged, holding up the data clip with a triumphant look on her face.

"Yes. Yes I do." The exo replied, looking back down at his map. Emnett let out a violent sneeze, which then turned into a small fit of coughing. Ikora looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Try and cover your mouth, will you?" Cayde commented, looking up from his maps. The Warlock grinned sheepishly.

"Cayde, you're an exo." Ikora pointed out with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry. I must have caught something on Venus." Emnett said, shifting his weight. Why did he feel so ache-y all of the sudden? He had felt just fine an hour ago, and had thought the small coughs he kept having were just a result of his body adjusting to the new atmosphere.

"Eh, everyone comes back from Venus with something; Zavala even got chicken pox once." Cayde shrugged, and the Titan vanguard let out a silencing hiss from between his teeth directed at the exo. Cayde cast his fellow vanguard a look, and if exo could make pouty faces, it was for certain that's the face he would be making right now.

"Better go rest up, Guardian. We need you back in the field as soon as possible." Ikora said.

"Yes, ma'am." Emnett nodded. He turned and left the conference room.

"Oh, and Ikora got head lice!" Cayde added, yelling after the Warlock.

As soon as the now-snickering Guardian was gone, both of the other vanguards threw books at the hunter.

"Real mature, guys. Real mature." The exo said, shooting a glare at the awoken.

 _ **"** **Now, If this particular idiot had gone to bed immediately, he wouldn't have been out partying with that Hunter friend of his, and then all our problems might have ended with just that one casualty. Well, and that black vanguard's of course."**_

 _ **"** **It's so weird how humans have two totally different colors to their skin.** **That's why I prefer my own people to them; we have all kinds of pigmentations, but those humans… well they are so weird-looking, all of them.** **Especially the blond ones."**_

 _ **"** **I'm starting to think**_ **she** _ **might be blond."**_

Emnett didn't feel good. He didn't feel good at all. As his feverish mind slowly returned to the waking world, he felt as if his chest was about to explode. Something ripped out of his lungs, bursting out of his mouth.

It felt like his entire body was on fire.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Not good, defiantly not good!" He could barely hear the panicked voice of his Ghost, just now alerted to his Guardian's condition. He peered at the blurry white shape through watering eyes, and shut them tight as his Ghost scanned him with a migraine-inducing burst of blue.

"Turn it off…" he mumbled, his voice catching in his throat, which was so dry he could barely speak, and at first he wondered if he had spoken at all, so stuffy his ears felt. His every heartbeat pounded through his head and rung through his ears as if he were listening to it through a wall of wool. He batted at one of his ears feebly in an attempt to make the pounding stop, to make the sensation of being stabbed through the ears with an arc blade stop, but it was to no avail.

He let out a whining groan that ground in his throat.

"Make it stop…please, just make it stop…make it stop…"

"Hold on, there! I'm going to get Ikora! She'll know what to do!" the voice of his Ghost reassured.

"No…please don't…leave…" he broke off with another explosion of coughing, and the voice of his Ghost no longer cut through the haze. All awareness of his surroundings began to leave him, and he began to once more slip into the grateful darkness of sleep, or unconsciousness.

But fate would not be so kind to him. Every time he lingered on the edge of sweet blackness, where he could hopefully escape the pain by retreating into his dreams, another violent fit of coughing broke loose, and the palpable fantasy of relief would be snatched away from him once more.

When Ikora finally made it to his quarters, it was to find him on the floor by his bed, crouched on all fours with pajamas soaked through with sweat, dry, pink saliva dripping from his mouth onto the floor as he wretched, his empty stomach expelling any of what remained of his dinner from last night.

"Cayde, we got an emergency; it's another one. He's worse than Hill. Tell Terra to prep another bed in the infirmary; he's spitting up blood down here." She ordered over the comms on her Ghost. She crouched down next to Emnett, putting her arms around his violently shaking shoulders as he dry heaved once more.

"We need to be careful; this could be a pandemic, here." Her Ghost said worriedly, watching as her guardian touched the disease-ridden warlock.

"Trust me; I know what I'm doing." The vanguard reassured her partner. The Ghost drooped slightly.

"Alright, then; that's why you're the boss." She sighed. "But, just don't blame me if you end up catching this thing."

"I won't." Ikora nodded. She squeezed Emnett's shoulders. Looking around, she spotted his robes hung up on the wall, and took them, draping them over his shoulders.

"Come, on, let's go. We need to get you down to the infirmary." She urged gently. His Ghost hovered into view from around the corner, and came up to float just in front of his face, clicking and letting out small bleeps of distress.

"Come on; it'll be alright. You're going to be fine. Right?" he looked at Ikora. "He's going to be fine, isn't he?"

"Terra will do her best, and so will I." she reassured the Ghost. She wrapped her arm around Emnett once more, and pulled him to his feet.

She half-dragged, half guided him out of his quarters and down to the infirmary. He looked small and dead next to the shorter woman that was supporting him; a once-great guardian laid low. A hero and a warrior that had survived countless dangers on Venus, only to be like… _this_ on his first full day back on earth after three grueling weeks.

They came into the infirmary, Ikora now staggering under the weight of the other Guardian, whom she was practically carrying now. Cayde was already there, at the bedside of a pale-looking huntress who had collapsed in a fit of violent coughing while delivering a report. He stood up immediately and ran over to Emnett's other side, taking a good deal of his weight off of Ikora.

The Warlock looked up and around himself blearily before his eyes fell on the huntress and went round with shock.

"Arna?" he asked delusionaly. The brown-haired woman lifted her head weakly, and horror exploded onto her face when she saw him. She sat up immediately.

"Emnett? What—" she broke off, coughing. She cleared her throat when it was over. "What happened to you?"

"Same as you, except he's worse; much worse." Ikora answered for him. A green-plated, golden-eyed exo made her way through one of the door, her cloths marking her as one of the medical staff.

"Put him over here." she told the two vanguards, motioning towards a bed not far from Arna Hill's.

She immediately began to work on him, pulling out a device to scan his vitals.

"We need to get him on a lung pump immediately; there's more fluid in there than he can possibly cough up without damaging his lungs permanently." She said seriously after a moment, speaking to one of the ownerless Ghosts that sometimes helped her when they weren't searching the city below for newborn Guardian candidates.

Sure, many Ghosts scoured the world looking for the dead, but the ones who had lost their first Guardians preferred to find living candidates rather than dead ones; children, especially, seemed to give them comfort, as if watching their new Guardian grow up before their eyes made up for the pain of losing their first partner.

"Right." The Ghost said, zooming around to the end of the hall. About a minute later, two more doctors, an awoken and another exo, came rushing around the corner, pushing a large cart in front of them. Hill looked on, eyes wide with terror for her friend, as they prepped him for surgery.

"We need to warn the rest of the tower about this. It could be nothing more than a lung virus, but the last thing we need is for more Guardians to fall ill." Ikora said, Cayde nodded, agreeing.

"I'll get word out to any out-of-city Hunters to steer clear of the Tower until we know what this thing is. In fact, I'll just go ahead and expand the warning to all Guardian channels; I think Zavala's got a strike team or two out on a mission right now." He said, rubbing the back of his head. If exos could look like disheveled, bed-headed, definitely-not-a-morning-person people, then that's what he would definitely look like right now.

 _" **Now, as you can imagine, this did absolutely nothing to stop the disease from spreading-why would it?"**_

 _ **"** **But as time went on, they eventually managed to work out where the warlock had gotten sick, and after yanking every detail of the mission out of him and his Ghost… well,** **to give them credit, it didn't take long for them to figure out**_ **how** _**he got sick."**_

 _ **"** **Stupid Fallen."**_

 _ **"** **Uggh! Forget I said that. Danged Hunter; I'm starting to talk like her. Egth. Gross."**_

 _ **"** **Anyway, you can guess what happened next; the disease spread to the city, they cut off trade with us and contact with Guardians in the field, blah, blah, blah, let's just skip to my part, shall we?"**_

"No." Uldren said, glaring at the exo hunter that stood in front of him.

 _ **"** **Yes, that's me; a real leader, unlike that bumbling vanguard I'm talking to right now. I still can't believe he gave me such an idiotic girl for a partner."**_

"Look, this illness will strike the Reef sooner or later; there's no way our net on the City is perfect. There can-and most likely will-be breaches in the system." Cayde insisted.

Uldren's older sister was nowhere to be found; it was early in the day, and he had learned, long ago at the tender age of five, that Mara was definably _not_ a morning person. A graceful and patient Queen she may appear, but every morning since she was old enough to hate waking up, the inhabitants of the Reef, both awoken and Fallen alike, had learned that Queen turned into a monster for the first hour of being awake.

To make contact with her in any way during this time was a verbal death sentence of public humiliation.

So going into her room and telling her that the Hunter Vanguard of the Last City was here for an audience with her would not only earn him some spit flying into his face, but a ringing sensation in his ears for the rest of the day as well.

"Breaches like _you_?" Uldren accused. "You may not get sick, _exo_ , but you still spread the disease! You would give us the illness while requesting we help fight it? We, who are otherwise unaffected by this sickness? We don't need to be sent ammunitions by the city; we could leave you in the dust and continue on just fine without you. Why should we involve ourselves with _your_ plague?"

"And if we fall, who will help you push back the Darkness? Don't pretend like the Cabal wouldn't rip your Reef to splinters if we weren't keeping them occupied." Cayde spat. The hunter rarely got nasty, but now was one of the times he was.

"Ha!" Uldren mocked. "You? Keeping the Cabal at bay? You can barely hold on to your own moon, let alone Mars. We all know it's the Vex who are doing all the work."

The exo and the prince were nose-to-nose now, both furious. Two Fallen guards watched nervously, unsure of exactly what to do if a fight broke out. Guardians were extremely dangerous, they knew, but leaving the prince to fend for himself was not an option—not that Prince Uldren couldn't hold his own. They'd seen him fight before, and he was good.

But perhaps not good enough to take on a Guardian as experienced as this one. They clutched their spears nervously.

"Enough!" a tired voice commanded. Both men turned to see the Queen leaning in the entrance to the throne room, looking exhausted and even more pale than usual.

"Mara?" the prince asked, making the Fallen even more nervous. There was a look on his face that they rarely saw, and he only addressed his sister by name when they were alone, or if the situation was dire enough.

And this situation was definitely dire indeed. She was leaning against the doorframe, panting, and the faint stench of sickness that the Guardian had brought with him suddenly became even stronger. The prince rushed forwards as the Queen began to heave, spewing vomit everywhere.

 _ **"** **And this is where it aaaalllll went to heck."**_

 **TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT**

 **Yeh. What he said.**

 **Anyway, next chapter we might finally meet Silverhawk... for the second, real time.**

 **Still quite not sure as to why I updated this quickly. Usually I wait about a month or so. I guess I just really need to let my inner comedian out into the interweb as fast as possible.**

 **What do you guys think of the PoV? Do you think I should keep it like this, or make it strictly third person from a specific perspective?**

 **Review Challenge(annoy Uldren): Type in the stupidest battle cry you can think of. The best one will be featured in a near chapter, and I might recycle the rest(cuz I'm gonna need a lot of stupid battle crys as things get rolling quicker). Virtual cookies for the one you think might annoy Uldren the most.**

 **Read and REVEIW my few, cherished readers!**

 **Jayfeatther out.**

 **(P.S. what do you guys think of the cover image? Am I right, or am I _right_?)**


	3. Silverhawk

_**"** **Now, when my sister got sick, you can imagine that I was fairly angry at the vanguard."**_

Uldren's fist cannoned into Cayde's face, sending the exo reeling backwards.

 _ **"** **Luckily, I have developed an excellent control of my emotions."**_

He slammed the hunter against the wall, pinning him there. Either he was weaker than he looked, or he just didn't care.

" _You_ did this!" he spat in the exo's face.

"Technically speaking, from what we've seen, it takes three hours for symptoms to start showing. Which, by the way, is long before I got here." Cayde reasoned, not sounding at all concerned about the fact he had just been attacked.

"I'd really appreciate it if you let him go, now." The vanguard's Ghost said. Uldren looked at the odd little orb, giving Cayde one last shove before letting him go. The hunter brushed the creases out of his cloak and continued talking as if nothing had happened.

"Now seeing as we have a full-blown pandemic on our hands now, I'm going to call in my best man for this mission." He said. A series of violent coughs erupted from the next room over, from where the Queen was being tended to. "That is, if you've changed your mind."

Uldren glared at the exo, and was seriously considering denying the request-more violently, this time-when another fit of coughing sounded from the Queen's room. That was what decided for him. He let out an annoyed sigh.

"Fine." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. _What the heck am I getting my people into?_ The sound of more coughing made him tense up again, further pushing him into doing what he did next.

"But I will personally oversee the operation. I don't trust 'your best man' to get the job done. And know that if we fail…my sister's death will be on _your_ head." He told Cayde menacingly.

"Alright, then; sounds good. And about my best man; he's actually a she, and don't worry. I think you'll like her. She's almost as good as me. Almost." The exo rubbed his hands together in an almost maniacal fashion…as if he were planning something. "The Queen will be fine. When I say I'm calling in the best, I mean I'm calling in _the_ _ **best**_."

 _ **"** **And when he said 'the best', he actually meant**_ **her** _ **. And she is definitely not the best, because she's an idiot."**_

Five hours later, a huntress strode out of her ship and onto the docks, fitting a bright red hat on her head, and putting on a pair of aviator sunglasses as she stepped onto the docks. She strode through the area to the throne room like she owned the place, making a gun symbol with one hand and pointing at a vendor, as if she were the coolest thing in the galaxy.

She pushed open the double doors that led into the throne room, and all heads snapped around in her direction.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Uldren said from where he was talking to Petra, next to the throne. The knife-wielding woman's eyebrows raised. When the first Guardians had fallen ill, they'd sent her through an extensive decontamination as a precaution, and sent her forcibly back to the Reef. Her "exile" at the Tower cut short, with the Guardians getting involved, and with the other high-ranking commanders swiftly falling sick one after the other, Uldren had taken her up as his temporary second-in-command.

Besides, he would need her to help coordinate the off-planet parts of the mission, and her assault ship could serve as a mobile base if need be.

"What a hat. Do you think I could get one of those?" she commented. Cayde gave Uldren the exo equivalent of a smirk from where he leaned nonchalantly against a bit of railing as the Guardian, a Hunter, strode towards them.

She was somewhat tiny, about four-foot-ten, with a swagger in her step as if she owned the world. She wore black-plated armor with fabric made up of various blues, and a dark green cloak, with the Hunter crest embroidered on the back in brown, he could see, billowed out behind her. She wore black aviator sunglasses and an assaultingly shiny red fedora, from under which flashes of brown hair could be seen, as if it were tied up tightly under her hat.

She came up to them, and Cayde clapped her on the back pridefully. The young woman tensed at the contact, but quickly relaxed. Her Ghost hovered over her right shoulder, looking around and analyzing their surroundings.

"This," Cayde presented boastingly,"Is Silverhawk."

"What's up?" the young woman greeted, waving her hand at them. There was a haughty cheerfulness to her voice. Uldren already hated her.

"This isn't a game." he said. This woman, judging from the sound of her voice, and the fact that what he could see of her face didn't seem filled out enough, could only be about nineteen or twenty. How young could a Guardian in the field be?

"Eh, don't worry. Life is a game, and I'm really good at games." she shrugged. Uldren glared at her. _We... are going to fail._

"Now, I'm sure your Ghost already told you some details about the mission." Cayde said to her. The orb at her side did a kind of nod, and the exo continued. "From what Emnett told us, the virus originated on Venus. Your mission is to go back to the lab he went to, and see if there's a cure in it; from what we've gathered, that's where the Fallen got it from. Second priority is to find out if the Fallen have any more of this disease in storage. If they have any more of the virus, destroy it, by any means necessary, and bring back a small sample for further study. You will deliver the sample to Petra, who will be waiting in orbit around Venus, and then return to the City so the egg-heads can study it properly."

"Hm." Silverhawk nodded. She turned to Uldren, grinning broadly."Sounds simple and easy enough."

"Actually, there was another reason I called you in. You, specifically." Cayde told her hesitantly. She looked at him, and Uldren felt a cruel satisfaction at seeing her frown."The facility Emnett was in...well, now we know who's it was. The building was once a research lab belonging to Certech. You know more about them and their traps than anyone; if this was like a trip wire security measure, we need to know about it, and we need to know where the other Certech labs are. I'm sorry; I know you hate anything involving them, but your our best option at this point. Well, best healthy option."

Silverhawk's brows creased, and he didn't like that he could barely read her expression, what with her glasses and her hat. He didn't trust anyone who could hide their emotions from him like that so easily.

"Don't worry Cayde; I'll be fine. I don't think... _it_ was on Venus. And you know I'd be more than happy to help put Certech in the ground for good." she said slowly, nodding. She let out a sigh. "Who knew, that after all these years, they could still be dangerous?"

"You have a personal connection to the task? That could be a problem." he gave Cayde a hard look.

"Oh, no; a lot of Guardians have connections to Certech. They did a lot of things." Silverhawk insisted quickly. "Especially during the Collapse. We've even got a few of their old scientists as Guardians now. I think. I don't spend much time around the Tower."

"Yeah, none at all." Cayde snorted-at least the closest an exo could get to a snort- before giving her a look that could only be described as both sly, and hopeful. "By the way...If you pull this off, you could be looking at a major promotion, if you know what I mean..."

"No, Cayde I will not take your job." Silverhawk semi-laughed, and he could imagine her rolling her eyes as she said this. He thought he caught a glimpse of blue behind the black glass as she turned her head.

"Please? I asked you last month, I thought it would be enough fro you to make up your mind..." the vanguard pouted. Ducking his head, he looked up at her pathetically in a way that not many exo would have been able to pull off.

"I did make up my mind. I said no." she put her hands on her hips irritably, but her voice remained light-humored." I mean, come on; sitting in the Tower all day with nothing but paperwork while everyone else goes off and has adventures without me? No thanks."

"Exactly!" Cayde gasped, waving his arms out exasperatedly. "Can't you see where I'm coming from, here? I'm slowly but surely going insane. This is the farthest I've been from the Tower in five years."

"Excuse me, but we are here to find a cure to the disease; not talk about rankings." Uldren snapped. Petra cast him a sideways glance.

"Well excuuuuuuuse me, Princess! I'm trying to have a conversation with my boss here!" Silverhawk shot back dramatically, waving her arms around to indicate Cayde with both hands. Uldren gawked at her, his mind wiped blank of everything he could possibly respond to that with.

 ** _"She was-and is-the most disrespectful little space urchin I have ever met."_**

"You!" he finally regained his voice, raw fury pounding through him. He reached for his knife. "Disrespectful ***** space urchin!"

Petra held him back with a yelp as he pulled his knife out. Cayde groaned, burying his face in his hands. The Fallen guards just stood there, knowing very well not to get between the Prince and his source of anger. You know who else just stood there? Silverhawk.

Yes, she simply stood there, one eyebrow arched over her glasses.

"Good grief." she smirked, eyebrow still up. "Someone doesn't know a joke when they hear it. If you can't take the banter, don't poke the bear."

"Silverhawk." Cayde hissed warningly. "That's your partner. Prince Uldren."

She looked from him to the raging awoken a couple of times. Uldren shook Petra off and sheathed his knife begrudgingly, knowing that if he killed Silverhawk now, he might lose an advantage in the field...and possibly start a war. He settled for casting her the meanest glare he could. _Just because I'm working with you now, that doesn't mean I won't kill you when this is all over._

 ** _"Goodness knows, I wish I had gone ahead with killing her then and there. Why do I keep putting the important stuff off for last?"_**

"OOOOHHHH." Silverhawk said with realization. She made a small bow in his direction, grinning broadly again as she came up. "Well, that explains the lack of humor, at least. And the atomic glare. Is his face always like that?"

"Well, uh..." Petra said, stuttering as the Guardian addressed her.

"Don't answer that." her Ghost spoke for the first time. "We'll be here all day."

"Why would we need to know where their other labs are?" Uldren questioned, becoming more and more angry with each moment Silverhawk was present, and trying to shed the indignity of being held back by Petra.

"Certech was an organization that found a way to carry on during the Collapse period. Their main focus was making weapons to fight the darkness. But over the years, as these weapons are uncovered, they've proved time and time again that anything Certech is BAD. Either it does bad things, or what they did to get it was bad. In a way, I guess they're the Darkest piece of humanity." Cayde explained. Silverhawk gave a tiny shiver."At my suggestion, Zavala made it Vanguard policy to destroy any and all Certech labs we come across. They're just too dangerous to keep around."

"Is Martin here with you?" Cayde asked of her. She nodded, her fedora bobbing up and down as she did so.

"Yeah. He was in the Timey-Wimey last I heard from him-in orbit. But I saw a lot of weird things in the streets on my way down here, and I doubt he could possibly resist. It looked like a nerd's dream land out there or something." she told him, shrugging. _What the heck did she just say? Timey-Wimey? Is that even a word?_

"Well, go pick him up, and get out there. We need that cure as soon as possible." Cayde hesitated. "The first Guardians who were sick died just before I left. Ikora's had it for about a week now. From what we've seen, you have five more days until she's beyond hope. It takes longer for the virus to kill awoken than it does for humans, but the symptoms are ten times worse."

"Okay. Five days. Anything else we should know?" Silverhawk asked.

"The disease takes six hours to start effecting you, based off some research they sent me before Silver got here." the vanguard said to Uldren. He nodded. "It takes three hours for humans to start feeling the effects, though, and sixteen for you to start feeling really bad. The coughing is usually accompanied by vomiting-"

"Incoming message from the City!" his Ghost interrupted suddenly. He zoomed up to where they all could see him, though his main focus was Cayde. "It's from Terra-27."

 **"Cayde, things are getting worse down here; seven more dead, twenty more guardians infected within the last twelve hours. Zavala is down, he's gotten it worse than the others. We need you back here immediately! Terra out."** came the obviously panicked voice of a female. There were sounds of many other voices behind hers, along with a chorus of violent coughing and the beeps of medical equipment.

"What!" Cayde yelled, grabbing the top of his head in panic, as if he had hair that he could rip out if need be. "Impossible! I've only been gone a day!"

He pushed past Silverhawk, picked his bag up from beside the railing, and threw it at Uldren, backing up swiftly all the while. Uldren caught the bag, fumbling ungracefully, and hoping that the exo would back off the edge of the walkway. _Good grief, what's in this thing; a Cabal?!_ The vanguard directed his final attentions towards Silverhawk.

"You get that cure. We'll send what doctors we can to the Reef, but there's only so many exos. Remember, you are on a constant time limit; three hours, and six hours. Twenty-four hours and sixteen hours. That's how long you have at any given moment of the day, at every second of the mission. Because once you're down with this thing, you're not getting up. The clock is ticking, and you need to be fast for every second." he yelled at them as he backed up, breaking into a run and turning around. "Good luck! You're going to need all of it."

With that, he truly began to run, and he tore out of the throne room at a speed that only an exo could manage, practically throwing the doors out of his way, leaving them swinging in his wake. The three remaining humanoids stared after him, Petra looking amazed, Uldren looking angry, and Silverhawk turning towards the other two with another one of her stupid grins plastered all over her face.

"Right then, partner!" she clapped her hands together, rubbing them together with anticipation. "Let's go get my nerd, and we'll be at Venus before you can say 'Quidditch'."

 ** _"And I could tell right then-no, before then- that this was going to be a very, very, very long mission."_**

* * *

 **Okay, so I made a few corrections to this chapter, and then I re-posted it, but half of it got deleted in the process. No idea how that happened. Looks like I have to re-post my review challenge, but I can't remember what it was. I can only imagine what people who read this half-chapter must have thought.**

 **So, instead, I'll just remind you that you can do a challenge even if this fic has been finished for, like, forever. It's always amusing to read the results of the challenges, and it really gives a lot of inspiration for parts of the fic I have no ideas for.**

 **Next time: We meet the rest of the team, and Uldren throws a temper tantrum and shoots a computer.**

 **Oh, what fun! ^^**

 **Cheers^^**


	4. Meet the Team

**When innocence was clear, when there were no worries to be spoken, and yet no boundaries to be broken...**

"We should see if Variks knows anything about the disease first. If the Fallen have been using it as a weapon, then he might know something about it." Uldren said as they made their way around the docking streets of the Royal City. At least, he tried to say; Silverhawk just kept walking along, doing her own thing, looking at the occasional vendor and their goods, or looking around at the city itself. She kept wandering, spinning to take it all in, and changing directions.

If it weren't for her dumb hat, he might have lost her in the crowd a long time ago, because her every movement had an odd, fluid speed similar to that of Cayde's; most likely a result of her training as a Hunter, no doubt. Which was extremely annoying, because he had too keep rushing forwards just to keep up with her.

 _And here I was, hoping to make our partnership as discreet as possible. Now the whole reef will know I'm with this foolish girl._ He was _so_ going to kill her when this was all over. The fact that he had to walk around with Cayde's dumb sack on his back didn't help either. It weighed a ton or something, and it felt like is was made of metal or something. He didn't have time to open it up and look, so there was no telling what could be in there.

His suggestion to go to Variks had been repeated about three times now. But Silverhawk was either deaf, or didn't care, because she just kept on looking at vendors-and, for some reason, their customers. Perhaps she was looking for this "Martin" that Cayde had mentioned?

Or perhaps she was just being difficult for the sake of being difficult. That seemed to be the more likely option of the two.

He opened his mouth to demand her attention, but noticed that they were slowly making their way over to Variks' tent. _I swear, if we don't stop here, I am going to shoot this girl, ally or not._

To his immense relief, they did stop by Variks' tent, and he was about to call the Fallen out and catch his attention when Silverhawk suddenly yelled at his side.

"Oi! Martin!" she shouted over the throng of people bustling about on their daily business. She started pushing her way through the crowd, towards Variks' tent, and for the first time, Uldren noticed that the Fallen was with somebody.

He shoved a man out of his way and went after Silverhawk, who was weaving through the lessening crowd with-he admitted begrudgingly-impressive precision. _At least there's one thing about her that_ might _be useful._

As they finally made it to the tent, he got a better look at who Variks was with-and who Silverhawk had been calling out to. As he pushed one last citizen out of his way, he arrived just in time to see Silverhawk slam her hands into the shoulders of a man bent down behind a table. He yelped, jumping and hitting his head on the table with a violent bang and a loud yelp.

Variks let out a sigh as the man looked up, rubbing his head, at Silverhawk, whose was grinning broadly again with her hands held behind her back, rocking back and forth on her feet innocently.

"Guardians; some so much like children, yes?" he commented in his rattling voice, while giving Uldren a respectful nod before continuing his observation of the two humans. Uldren slid the sack off his shoulder gratefully, letting the bag fall to the ground with a _thump_ , rolling his shoulders and hoping his back wouldn't complain too much about it later.

"Well, if you get a bunch of dead guys together away from the judgments of their previous society, where you get special benefits because you save the world 'bout twice a day...yeah." Silverhawk shrugged. Her grin faltered as she noticed that Variks was Fallen, and for a fraction of a second, her right arm twitched, and he caught a flash of her hand reaching for the side of her leg before she brought it back behind herself. Though she kept smiling, he wondered what her eyes were saying behind her sunglasses as her partner revealed himself.

The man who had hit his head stood up completely, revealing a very young face, a head full of unruly sandy-brown hair, and a pair of large, bespecled green eyes. His round glasses were of a flimsy wire frame, and the bridge was held together with some kind of tape. He wore no armor that Uldren could see; just a loose russet-brown tunic with a dark navy blue vest, a pair of loose-fitting dark brown pants, whose legs were tucked into a pair of well-worn boots.

All of that was topped off with a long-sleeved russet robe that went down to his ankles, seeming to be a bit big for him around the sleeves, and his belt had several book-sized pouches on it, some of which seemed to be full. His bond was plain gray and completely un-extraordinary-looking just like the rest of him. There was what appeared to be a knife sheathed in his belt along with the journal on the left side of his waist, and he thought, for a moment, that he caught sight of the hunter crest on the scabbard as the Warlock's robes shifted. His eyes narrowed. _What's a Warlock doing with a Hunter's knife?_

"I really wish you'd stop doing that." he said, glaring at Silverhawk. Uldren narrowed his eyes. Did this man hate Silverhawk as much as he did? Did he have an ally in his misery?

"Sorry, but like the Fallen said; Guardians are like children, and the number one rule of childhood is to never waste an opportunity to be a troll. It's just bad manners." she told him playfully. There was constant undertone of sarcasm in her voice whenever she spoke, and he was starting to get sick of it.

"Pft. Yeah, like I would want to insult someone by _not_ punching them in the shoulder blades when they have their back turned." the man said dryly, rolling his eyes. There was a glint in them when he looked at Silverhawk that clearly said they were friends, and Uldren let out an internal groan.

 _I hope this_ one _isn't as much of an idiot as the first. If we fail because of their incompetence..._

He shoved his hand into his pocket, where the recording device as prepped and ready. As a Prince, he was a prime target(as they had learned the hard way when he was seven), and it was under Mara's constant insistence that he keep a bug on him at all times in case he was captured, whether it was on a mission or by traitors at home. Well, this time, he would actually use it...

To keep a record of his partner's failures. If they didn't find a cure, he didn't want to be known as the Prince who failed his people; he wanted to be known as the prince who was dragged down by incompetent team members, thus resulting in the failure of the mission. If the Royal Family was to die, then he would die rubbing their failure in Cayde-6's face for choosing the wrong Guardians for the mission.

 _ **"And this, as you can see, is when I started recording. Which turned out to be a pretty good idea."**_

"Who's that?" the sandy-haired man asked as Uldren adjusted the bug in his pocket. Hopefully it wouldn't fall down into it; he was pretty sure he had secured the clip well enough.

"Oh, that's Uldren. He's coming with us to find a cure for that disease thing that's been going around." Silverhawk told him airily, as if having a Prince in their midst was no big deal. "Uldren, this is Martin Anton, my usual partner...who probably knows your whole ancestory by heart, by the way. Not to freak you out or anything, but he probably knows more about you than you do."

The bespecled man was gawking, speechless, at Uldren, which seemed to be a major support for Silverhawk's claim.

 _No, not creepy at all._ the thought that this young man knew _anything_ about him was, at the very least, disconcerting. He felt a small shiver slip down his spine. _Maybe I can arrest him for being a stalker after the mission is over?_

 _Yes, that sounds about right; shoot the annoying one, arrest the stalker._

 _Simple._

 ** _"Yeah, turns out; not so much. Sorry, me."_**

"I-it's an honor to meet you, sir." The man stuttered, glancing at the ground, as if suddenly realizing that he had been staring. "It is true; I read up on a lot of awoken history before we got here. You know, just for basic knowledge."

"As you can already tell, he's my nerd." Silverhawk introduced, leaning against Martin's shoulder classily. Martin frowned down at her.

"I really wish you would stop calling me that. I am not a 'nerd'; I am a Warlock. Lots of Warlocks can fight; we aren't all about books." he stated vehemently, pushing her arm off of his shoulder and leaning way from her.

"Oh really? Names of the awoken royal family, fourth dinesty." Silverhawk demanded slyly, smirking.

"Ellis, Faron, Nayrine, Callon. Queen, King, Princess, Prince, respectively." his eyebrows shot up, and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly." Wow, okay, maybe you're right; I did go a little overboard."

"I'll say." Uldren muttered under his breath. He was now choosing to ignore the fact that Martin hadn't bowed or showed any sign of respect for him other than his greeting.

Meanwhile, Variks seemed to have finished analyzing his new visitor, appearing skeptical about her size. Silverhawk, seeming to be trying to be friendly, perhaps shaking off her unease at being this close to a Fallen, beamed stupidly up at him and Uldren. Uldren allowed himself a small smirk. _This will certainly be interesting._

"Sup? How's the weather?" she said with a small wave.

"There is no weather here." Variks answered, confused and glaceing outside his tent.

"I meant, 'how's your day?'"

"There is no day or night here."

"Metaphorically speaking, since the moment you woke up, how have you been?"

"His people are completely literal, Silverhawk. Metaphors are just gonna go over his head." Martin interjected from where he stood rolling his eyes.

"Nothing goes over my head!" Variks challenged, stamping his staff down and standing a little straighter. "My reflexes are enhanced; I would catch it. Unless, of course, I was not meant to catch it."

"See." The Warlock said pointedly. "I've used at least fifteen metaphors in the past ten minutes; he hasn't gotten a single one."

"Note taken." Silverhawk said, nodding.

"What note?" Uldren was honestly struggling with himself right now. Watching Variks' trials with metaphors was both humorous and annoying.

"Metaphor, Variks. That was a metaphor. It means she'll be sure to remember that especially, in future conversations with you." Martin told him helpfully. Uldren allowed himself a little while to inspect the Warlock a little further. While Silverhawk seemed to be withholding her unease, Martin, who looked to be the more "at-home-Guardian" type than a Warlock who was confident in combat, seemed to be more curios than afraid of the House of Judgement eliksni.

"I see you are acquainted with my new friend here. Acquainted very well, indeed." the Fallen said.

"Oh. Yeah. We grew up together. Well, kind of." she told him. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other a few times, as if unsure of what else to say."Oh, I'm Silverhawk by the way. Hope Martin wasn't too much trouble; he can get a bit carried away when he's around this much weird stuff."

She waved her hands around to indicate all the odd contraptions that Variks had scattered throughout his tent, and she cast her friend a playful grin. Martin rolled his eyes, and bent back down underneath the table. For the first time, Uldren noticed the Ghost that was hovering just behind the man, and it dove out of sight to it's Guardian when Uldren looked at it.

"No, no." Variks rattled. "He has been some help to me. Has solved my problem with new experiment. But has dropped key component." the Fallen finished with a hiss, looking over at the table Martin had disappeared behind.

Silverhawk opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a triumphant "Ah-HA!" from behind the table Martin was under. He popped up from behind it, a small, round, metal device held up in one hand.

"Found it!" he announced victoriously. He set the object down on the table.

"Good, very good." Variks rasped. He looked down at Uldren.

"Do you require my services?" he inquired, head tipped to the side.

"What do you know about a disease introduced to the Last City by the Fallen?" he asked bluntly. They didn't have time for anymore chit-chat.

"Ohhhhhh!" Variks hissed, shaking himself angrily. "House Wolves boasting much about new super weapon on communications. Say that Last City will soon be ripe for taking, that Reef will as well. Yes, they boasted many weeks ago, yet no activity since then. Told Petra at City; suspects large plan, very bad plan. We told her Majesty many days ago, said to keep close watch on House Wolves activity."

"Do you know where they might have gotten the disease, or how?" Martin asked. His Ghost zoomed up to his elbow, hiding partially behind him and eyeing Variks nervously.

"We already know where the disease was introduced." Uldren told him, glaring. The Ghost retreated farther behind him.

"It was at a Certech facility; surprise surprise. They're probably the ones who made the virus in the first place." Silverhawk added wryly. Martin looked at her worriedly, brow creased.

"Certech? Are you sure we should be on this mission?" he asked her, concern lit up in his gaze. Uldren narrowed his eyes at Silverhawk. _So, it's more than just 'what a lot of Guardians have'. She has a personal connection to Certech; a deep one. How much of a problem could this be?_

"Don't worry, dude; I'll be fine. Anyway, do you know where the House of Wolves might be storing the rest of the disease? There's got to be more of it somewhere." she added, waving off Martin's question. The Warlock's frown didn't go away, and he let out a worried sigh.

"No." Variks shook his head slowly. "House Wolves' ketch would be most likely place. Ketch would be hard to find, very hard indeed. Rumors of Wolf ketch on Venus, best chance. Also is small word about Wolf base on Mars. One can move, other can not; find ketch first, then look for base."

"Ooooorrr," Silverhawk said slowly and dramatically, "we could pretend to attack their base, draw their ketch out, and then attack that. I mean, if they've got a deadly disease as a weapon, won't they want to get that to their big, bad boss as soon as possible so he can use it again? I mean, logically, if you attack on base, the mobile one will come running to assist and recover the important stuff, right?"

They all looked at her, Uldren only a little bit surprised. _So there's a brain in that empty head after all?_

"Just say'n." she shrugged as if it were no big deal.

"Sounds like a plan." Martin agreed, nodding.

"And it is _not_ the plan that was laid out for us. We were given instructions beforehand, we will not deviate from them." Uldren said before they could start refining Silverhawk's new idea.

"Hey, Cayde only said to get the cure by any means necessary, and destroy any of the stuff that the Fallen still have. He never told us how we were supposed to do that." Silverhawk pointed out, shrugging. The sarcastic undertone of her voice became more pronounced somehow. "And he never said anything about not going to Mars."

"If there's even the slightest possibility that the House of Wolves has the disease on Mars, we need to eliminate that possibility." Martin agreed." And if we can somehow draw out the House of Wolves' ketch, then we can knock that off the list while we're at it."

"May I remind you _both_ , you _idiots_ , that we are on a time limit? If you can't get it done in five days, then any imbecilic plan you come up with _will not work_. We _cannot_ search under every rock on Venus _and_ attack an entire Fallen base on Mars at the same time." He sneered. _I have just about reached my limit when it comes to this woman._

He _couldn't_ _ **wait**_ to kill her.

"Whoa, whoa; five days!? Are you kidding me? Why the heck do we only have five days! We can't save known civilization in five days!" Martin suddenly went off, practically screaming, grabbing Silverhawk by the shoulders and shaking her before gripping his hair with his hands, as if he were considering pulling it out. "It's impossible! Literally impossible! We're all going to die horribly painful deaths because _this is impossible_! What the heck was Cayde thinking? What the heck are _we_ thinking? Why are we here!? What's with the universe!? _WHAT IS LIFE_!?"

Silverhawk grabbed him by the shoulders turning him to face her, as Variks and Uldren stared at him. To their surprise, she slapped him across the face.

"Wha-!?" he gawked like a fish out of water, staring at her.

 ***cue Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves main theme***

"Dude, cool it!" she said as she slapped him. As he gawked at her, she spoke again, fiercely. "Are you Guardian or not?"

"What?" he said stupidly. She slapped him again.

"Are you a Guardian or not?" she asked again.

"Y-yes!" Martin stuttered. She slapped him again.

"What!? What the heck was that fo-" she slapped him again.

"Are you a nerd, Guardian?! Are you a mad-man mad scientist?" she demanded.

"What? No!" she slapped him again.

"Say it!" she demanded, shaking him.

"Say what?" she slapped him again.

"Say it! 'I'm a mad-man with a Ghost. I'm a mad-man and I'm proud.'"

"I'm a mad-man with a Ghost…?" she slapped him again.

"WITH CONVICTION! 'I'M A MAD-MAN AND I'M PROUD!'"

"I'm a mad-man and I'm proud." she slapped him again.

"I'M A MAD-MAN AND I'M PROUD! " he yelled.

"That's it!" Silverhawk shook him again as the Warlock became more vehement.

"I'MA MAD-MAN AND I'M PROUD! I'M A MAD-MAN AND I'M PROUD!" he continued to chant, as Silverhawk cheered him on and began chanting on her own.

"CRAZY PEOPLE RULE! CRAZY PEOPLE RULE! CRAZY PEOPLE RULE! CRAZY PEOPLE RULE!" she screeched. The two Guardians were now jumping around each other, screaming in each other's faces, and cheering more and more loudly as Martin began to join in Silverhawk's "crazy people'' cheer.

Uldren simply stared, as Variks began to edge out of the room awkwardly. He cast the Prince a glance that could have meant "I pity you, you've met with a terrible fate, haven't you? " But Uldren was so shocked that he didn't notice. He was still gawking at the two Guardians' display. Their Ghosts were doing nothing to stop it, only hovering out of the line of fire of their Guardians' limbs.

 _They're idiots. They're complete and total idiots. I can't_ believe _this!_

"YES!' Silverhawk finally ended their cheer. "Now let's get out there, and KICK. SOME. BUTT!"

"YEEAAAAAAAAAAH!" Martin screeched. The two Guardians spun on their heels towards the entrance, where Uldren was standing. Casting each other a glance, they both raised their right arms as if they were wielding swords, and charged. Uldren jumped out of the way as they screeched;

"TOOO DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATH!"

He stared after them as they disappeared into the rapidly dispersing crowd, running in the direction of the docking ports, their Ghosts zooming after them.

 _We…are all going to die._

 ** _"_** ** _So, as you can see, everything was-and is- pretty much hopeless with these two. You can imagine, everything looked worse and worse as time got on."_**

In his ship, Uldren sat, gripping the control sticks so hard, he was glad he was wearing gloves, lest the force he was gripping with would have made his nails draw blood in the palms of his hands. The intercom was somehow stuck open, so he could hear everything that the two guardians were talking to each other about through their own comms.

It was much less talking than it was making the most extremely annoying sounds in the universe. His comm beeped to let him know one of the Guardians was trying to contact him.

"Hey, Uldren; wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?" Silverhawk's voice came, wobbly from barely-contained laughter.

"No!" he snapped. "I've been listening to it for the past half hour."

A guttural grinding noise sounded from his comm, and then another beep signaled that contact had been broken.

 _If only._

His speakers rang with the sound of the two Guardian's hysterical laughter.

 _"_ _No, no, no; listen to this, it's this new technique I've got…"_ Martin's voice said, sniggering. Uldren knew what was coming, but he still gave a tiny jump.

A loud, long farting sound filled the cockpit.

Silverhawk and Martin erupted into more laughing, Silverhawk trying-and failing- to speak, so heavy were her hysterics.

"Tha-th-that w-was better tha-than the arm one you did last week!" she finally managed to choke out, before exploding into new hysterics as Martin did another fake fart.

Uldren banged his head hard on the controls. He was considering shooting himself, in the head or the foot, anything to get him away from here. He glanced at his hand cannon.

Another fart.

 _Someone just end it, please…_

Both Guardians(and their Ghosts this time, it sounded like as well) farted in unison, and Uldren lost it. He slammed his head against the controls several times, the horn blaring with each hit. He screamed and threw his coffee off the console violently, before pounding his fists down on the console one last time. Eyeing the comm system evilly, he took out his hand cannon and emptied the whole mag into the system.

 ** _"_** ** _Of course, I kept my attitude very well during this time. I can't say that I every really lost my head."_**

They had landed on Venus, finally. It was the middle of the Venusian night; it had taken them about a day and a half, earth-time, to get here, as Venus, from the Reef, was clear on the other side of the sun at this time of year.

Uldren glared at the two humans as they ran up to him, after seeming to have had a somewhat heated exchange beforehand. They came up to him, Silverhawk looking sheepish. She was now sporting a Bazooka strapped to her back, and there was a blade the length of her forearm strapped to a sheath on each of her upper legs. She was now wearing some kind of belt as well, which not only went around her waist, but had a strap going along her torso as well.

On either side of her waist, there was a holster, one empty, one sporting a hand cannon.

Martin was basically dressed the same, except he now had the large sack that Cayde had given Uldren slung over his back, and he was gripping a blue and gray shotgun as if it were a lifeline. He'd taken the sack from Uldren shortly before takeoff, and had declined to share any knowledge about what was within it.

"Hey, there, atomic glare." She greeted cheerily.

He gave her and Martin the fiercest, most furious look he had ever worn, and Martin's Ghost hid behind his back again.

"Now, look, don't be angry, buuuuuuuut…" Silverhawk continued. "I left my best gun at the Tower. I completely forgot it was there, I was on a bit of a vacation when they called me in. Soooooo…I'ma go ahead and get it back from there."

 ** _"Her request was completely ridiculous, so naturally I denied her."_**

Silverhawk had been gone for three hours now, leaving Uldren alone with Martin, who was some distance away, practicing with some sort of Void energy, occasionally consulting one of the books strapped to his waist, which he had laid out on a nearby rock. His ghost, whom he now knew to be Wheatly, hovered over the book, occasionally correcting his Guardian when need be.

The Prince sat huddled on a boulder, back hunched, brooding and fuming and glaring at the fire he'd started. He'd scouted the area out a little, and managed to find a bird's nest; aka, breakfast for the next morning. The eggs were small, but he wasn't going to complain; so long as he didn't have to eat Guardian field rations. The small camp was set up in a tiny boulder field, with a small cave cutting into one of the larger rocks. Martin had proved to be useless t setting up the camp, so Uldren had done it all himself while the Warlock practiced with whatever space magic he was paying with.

He'd taken a tarp, and spread it out from the top of the cave entrance, to the tops of several surrounding boulders, creating a makeshift tent of sorts to keep out whatever rain Venus might bring while they were sleeping. Why were they getting ready to sleep? Because, it would be at least a ten hour trip to earth and back, and they might as well spend the remaining eight catching up on sleep while they could.

He hadn't given Silverhawk permission to return to Earth! She'd just took off and left them here!

 ** _"I can honestly say, Venus as a whole was a very calm and easy experience."_**

Uldren yelled and threw the head-sized boulder off the cliff, before tearing up any and all plant life he could get his hands on. He screamed again as he threw a large branch over the edge as well. He kicked another boulder, hoping to see it fall as well, but there was a loud _crack_ , and he gripped his foot, practically screeching every curse word he could think of.

About mile away, Martin continued practicing, under the assumption that his new partner had gone off to get firewood.

 ** _"Actually, you know what? I think I hated Venus more than anywhere else we went to."_**

* * *

 **Okay, so I laughed my gut out writing half this chapter. I almost didn't finish it. And kudos to those of you who recognized the _Legend of Zelda_ reference that I put in here.**

 **Review Challenge(Good 'ol Sayings): A catchy catch phrase. Anything will do; it doesn't even have to be yours. Just nothing TOO cliché, if you can contain yourselves.**

 **What do you think of Silverhawk so far? Do you want Uldren to throw anything in particular off a cliff? Do you want me to blow up something specific in the coming chapters?**

 **Yes, you heard me; I'ma going to blow something up soon. I can't wait! ^^**

 **Next time: First blood is drawn, Uldren begins to loose it(some more), and Silverhawk has some road rage.**

 **Cheers! ^^**


	5. First Blood And Road Rage

**When first blood is drawn, and it all starts...**

The next day, Silverhawk arrived in a blaze of glory. Well, not really; the first thing she did after transmat was trip and fall on her face. Very elegant.

"I'm okay!" she assured them cheerily, lifting her face out of the dirt and giving them a double thumbs up, sunglasses askew. A Sparrow materialized beside her, black and deep blue like her armor, but with a few odd modifications on it. The sides looked like they had thin blades running along them, and there was some sort of shielding in front of the driver's seat. The front looked oddly reinforced, and there were what appeared to be metal hand guards on the handles.

 _I wish you weren't._ Uldren stepped forwards, rage boiling through him. So angry was he, that he failed to notice the glint of blue and the panicked expression that crossed Silverhawk's face for a fraction of a second.

He'd woken early that venusian morning, and attempted to make himself breakfast. Key word being "tried". Uldren had always been a bad cook-he'd nearly given himself food poisoning once when he was younger-and the omelet had come out burnt and crunchy. He'd cringed with every bite, and was almost jealous of Martin's field rations, even as the warlock made a "I'ma go puke-y" face as he finished his "meal".

The omelet was not sitting well. He hadn't slept, because Martin snored like an ahakmara. He felt damp and felt an odd sort of restlessness rising from his chest, because of the rain and cold air. That, and they'd lost a day because of Silverhawk. And to make matters worse, it was still drizzling.

He wasn't happy.

"I never said you could leave! We lost a whole day because of you!" he yelled at her as she picked herself up off the ground, readjusting her glasses.

"Well excuuuuuuuuse me, princess! You aren't in charge of me, and besides; this gun is 50% of my ego, and I can't be without my ego on a mission this important." Silverhawk shot back, twirling a blue and black hand cannon in one hand. _Oh_ , he _hated_ her! Uldren unsheathed his knife, ready to throw it through her skull and put an end to her disrespect.

He would have done it, if not for Martin.

The Warlock let out a girlish screech, pointing to the ridge just beyond their camp, where the rocky terrain ended and the jungle began. Uldren whirled around to the side, and saw the source of cowardly Guardian's distress; a line of Fallen, headed by an Ogre, which was chained to a large land tank, pulling it forcefully through the undergrowth of the jungle. There were at least a hundred Fallen that he could see, all bearing the colors of either the House of Wolves, or the House of Winter.

 _That doesn't make any sense. The House of Winter hates the Wolves._ Then he noticed a few glints of the Kings' colors as well. What was going on here?

A few months ago, the Wolves had begun to rebuilt outside of the Reef. They were keeping it quite from the Fallen who lived in the Reef now, aside from Variks, but other than that... They were searching and searching for a kell, a face, a name to put on the new Wolf throne.

The Wolves were hated by the houses of Winter, Kings, and Devils, because they never showed at the battle of Twilight Gap; their presence would surely have meant victory for the Fallen. He could still remember, while out on patrol one day, how he'd caught a transmission. He'd had a crow probe harvest the data. It was all in Fallen, so they couldn't read it, but they could tell what it was.

It was directions for an attack on the Last City, orders to the Wolves from the Kings. His sister had, at first, put priority on contacting the City at once; but the awoken hadn't socialized with the last bastion of humanity in so long, and earth had been clear on the other side of the sun in approximation to the Reef. Communications shot, with the Wolves on the move and not time to warn the City, his sister had done the only thing they could do; she'd started the Reef Wars.

While it had stopped the game-changing Wolf reinforcements from destroying the Last City, the Wars lasted considerably longer than the Battle of Twilight Gap. Ten months of grueling battles and civilian massacres. The Last City had sent a few Guardians, every so often, but had never joined int he wars officially, with their fighting force worn so thin. They almost didn't win that war.

In the end, it had all come down to Variks and his costly message to the Crows. It had come down to a too-young military genius named Petra Venj, who'd faked her age to avenge her sisters. It had come down to Skolas, cornered by Uldren and his Crows, both human and robo-bird, a massive creature that had made even the prince feel a little less brave.

In the end...it had all come down to luck.

The Ogre roared, and the metal bolting it to the tank fell away. It turned on the Fallen, but electricity sparked along it's body, and it turned back towards...

Towards _them!_ Uldren sheathed his knife and ran to his sleeping spot from the night before, pulling his hand cannon out from under his makeshift pillow. When he turned back it was to see the Ogre full on charging at them, Martin hyperventilating into a paper bag, and Silverhawk...

Riding straight towards the Fallen on her Sparrow!

"What the heck, Silverhawk!?" he yelled, before taking aim at the Ogre. He pulled the trigger, the creature staggering as the rounds hit it's thick skull. It was still a fair distance away.

"Martin, you should get the Deathening. Silverhawk can't handle them all herself." Martin's Ghost spoke up at the same time, for the first time since Uldren had met the Warlock. The Guardian ignored this advice, continuing to breath in and out of his paper bag.

 _Useless nerd._

He re-loaded his hand cannon, just as the Ogre began to charge again. However, as he pulled the trigger, the Ogre let out an agonized wail and tripped, falling to the ground as it toppled sideways. He blinked, confused. What had hurt it? Then, he noticed Silverhawk had turned around and run into the Ogre from behind.

"Heghlu'meh qaq jajvam!" Silverhawk screamed, whirling her Sparrow around once more. The Fallen were firing a hailstorm of bullets at her, but the shielding in front of her Sparrow took all the hits as she rammed into the crowd of enemies, sending them flying in all directions. Meanwhile, the hailstorm of bullet fire was coming straight for Uldren and Martin, who was still deep in panic.

Uldren, confident that the Ogre was completely immobilized, shoved the Warlock towards the jungle behind their makeshift camp.

"Go, you useless idiot; move it!" he practically threw him towards the undergrowth. Martin seemed to snap out of his panic attack, and lunged behind Uldren, ducking under his arm as he tried to shove him back towards the forest.

"What are you doing!?" the Warlock made for his sleeping spot, and pulled something out of the knapsack he had brought with him.

 ** _"As much as I hate to admit it, I was a little more than shocked, and maybe just an infinitely small amount impressed by what he pulled out of that bag, and what he did next. Of course, my being impressed only lasted for about a millisecond, because I still think he's a coward."_**

It had to be the biggest machine gun Uldren had ever seen. Martin heaved it out of the sack, and the folded-yes _folded_ -machine gun was revealed, dark orange and black and hungry-looking. The Warlock quickly unfolded it, snapping the barrel in place, increasing it's size twofold. Now as big as the Warlock was, he brought the chain of bullets hastily into the chamber, locked it, and faced the Fallen.

Silverhawk and her Sparrow emerged from the swarm of Fallen, scattering bodies in her wake. Several of them tried to shoot her in the back as she passed, but the vehicle was too swift, and Silverhawk too skinny a target(she looked like a freaking underweight teenager, how the heck was she a guardian when she was so desperately in need of a sandwich).

"Hab sosli' quch!" Martin yelled, and began to fire, screaming, ad he made his way slowly up the hill. The fallen Ogre was decimated by the bullets from the gun, and Uldren ran back into the jungle as the Fallen volley began to fall around him. Martin was far enough out to avoid being hit, but it was too late for Uldren to make a similar move.

 _T_ _hey're all idiots! They're all total idiots!_ He thought repetitively as the undergrowth lashed at his face and hands. He had lost count of how many times he had thought this over the last twenty-four hours. But his initial dislike of the two Guardian's behaviors had gone from annoyance to boarding on distress. With such unreliable partners, how was he ever going to save his sister? This mission was doomed from the start, and he knew it.

 _ **"And that's when I made the decision. The one that was best for everyone, and best for my sister."**_

Suddenly, standing alone in the jungle, the sounds of battle raging distantly behind him, he knew exactly what to do.

 _I leave the idiots, and find the cure on my own. The Last City can burn for all I care; the Reef and Mara are the only things that truly matter._

New resolve flowing through him, along with an unbridled sense of freedom at the prospect of losing Silverhawk and Martin(Silverhawk in particular), he put his hand cannon in its holster, and unsheathed his knife once more. A gun would be too much trouble in this thick of a jungle, it would be easier to just stab anything-or anyone- he came across.

For a fraction of a second, as he climbed awkwardly through a tangle of vines, he wished that he had Silverhawk with him, with those long blades of hers that could probably have cut through the undergrowth like a hot knife through butter. The image flashed through his mind of a much more serious Silverhawk, fedora-less, with green eyes that weren't hidden by glasses, leading the way through the jungle as she slashed at the vines in their path, Martin taking up the rear with a scout rifle in one hand and a grenade in the other, his Ghost boldly poking around every pit and knothole they came across.

He let out a snort. Martin holding a grenade; it had taken him a whole minute to pick up a machine gun. He felt like vomiting at the very realization that he'd actually _wanted_ anything having to do with Silverhawk. He once again pictured himself stabbing her through the throat, and felt the sudden longing to go back and fulfill that vision.

 _I can do that later; right now, it's the cure that matters._

He couldn't waste time or vigilance wondering what Silverhawk and Martin would look like as _true_ Guardians, or daydreaming about killing them in their sleep. The Fallen weren't the only danger on Venus; he knew there were Vex, and an assortment of strange, deadly, poisonous wildlife and flora. There was even a rumor going around the Reef that one of Variks' scouts had gotten eaten by a carnivorous plant! Mothers would tell their children to behave at all times, or else the plant would come to the Reef and eat them.

He wished he had grabbed his gloves before running away. But if he had made for his sleeping spot, he probably would have been dead before Silverhawk and Martin snapped out of their idiot-dance of utter insanity. His blood was still boiling about what had transpired before the attack, and he found himself muttering darkly as he cut a particularly thick vine.

"Stupid, freaking, darned fedora-wearing-" he was cut off abruptly as the vine gave way and he stepped forwards, a sudden snarl vibrating through the air. He barely leaned to the left in time to dodge the bullet as he turned to see the vandal perched on top of a fallen tree.

He threw his knife at it, intending to wound. Without the Guardians or their Ghosts, he would need to know where the Certech lab was, after all. The knife hit its mark, and the vandal staggered back with a wail, clutching it's shoulder. Vaguely noting that it wore the House of Winter colors, he ran forwards, and wrestled the Fallen onto it's stomach, pulling the knife out and pressing it against it's neck.

He dug one knee into it's back, pinning it's two left arms there, and he used his other leg to pin the other two to the forest floor.

"Where is the Certech lab?" he spat, pressing harder with his knee. The vandal snarled, kicking at the ground. He pressed the knife harder, and the vandal went still, a growl rumbling in it's throat.

 ** _"You know, I never really realized how bad my Fallen was before this happened. I wish I had been better; it would have made things now much simpler...and perhaps a little less disastrous."_**

"Where the sickness come from?" he tried again, adding a few menacing clicks of the tongue to punctuate. "Where you get sickness? How you get to Reef and City?"

"North...here. Ancient building...waterfall...follow...Dragon wing star...day." the vandal snarled, Uldren only half understanding the things that it said. It took years to learn how to speak fallen, and he had never been as fluent as his sister or Petra. "Dirty light...orb...ancient building, kin infect...bring sickness to City, infect she-Awoken...patrol, when...to ancient building as...searching...spoke...zero. Find sickness...come to...attack...Kell say sickness reunite Houses Wolves...Winter...Kings...for rematch...victory."

Uldren felt all the rage and hate of the last two days explode out of him. All this searching, all these clues that he could only half understand, these idiot Guardians he had been partnered up with, his sister dying in her room while he was all the way out here. Red overtook his vision, and the vandal screeched as he lifted his knife and brought it back down again.

Over and over again, he stabbed it and slashed at it, all the while imagining that it was not a vandal, but Silverhawk. There was truly no way to describe how much he hated her, when he had only just barely met her. Maybe it was her childishness. Maybe it was that cheep, sarcastic smile that she seemed to think was charming in some ridiculous way. Maybe it was the way she showed more disrespect to him than any had ever dared to ever before.

Or maybe it was just the stress getting to him.

As the red faded, he took several deep breaths. He looked around him, realizing what a mess he had made. he looked down, and was only a tiny bit shocked and disgusted to find his arms, legs, and a good portion of his torso covered with blood and gore. His knife handle felt sickeningly slimy in his grip, and for a moment he considered leaving it.

Then a new screech tore through the air, animalistic and filled with blood-lust. Disemboweling a Fallen, as much as it had relieved some of his built-up stress and rage, had been a bad, bad, bad, impulsive idea. _With this kind of trail, any beast within ten miles could find me easily._

He had to find a river to wash all the blood off in, and he had to double back and cover his trails carefully. As much of an idiot Silverhawk seemed to be, he couldn't count out the fact that she was a hunter, one that, for all her youth, had been called 'the best'. Perhaps she wasn't the best Hunter, per say(as he was beginning to think), but maybe she had been selected for her ability to track(which would, perhaps, have been no doubt useful on a mission like this).

And whatever 'inside information' on Certech she might just have, he didn't need it; he could track just fine, he was the leader of the Crows. He could watch out for traps just fine, he was a prince who had had more than one attempt on his life over the years, and stopped many more than one attempts on the life of his sister since her coronation.

At that thought, a plan popped into his head, and he grinned gruesomely.

 _There's no point in looking for a dead Prince, now, is there?_

Standing up, he rolled up one of his sleeves, found the biggest pile of gore in the area, and cut himself with his knife(after wiping it clean on some nearby leaves, of course, ones he knew to be safe). he hissed through his teeth, and squeezed the wound, making sure to get as much blood out of it as possible without making it too dangerous. When he was certain the plan would work, he found a nearby stick and used it(all the while resisting the urge to vomit) to swirled his own blood in with the gore.

He use his knife to rip off a few strips of his cloak, scattering them throughout the clearing, and even leaving a piece of his bloodied sleeve behind. Hopefully, if Silverhawk managed to track him here, she and Martin would assume him and a fallen had gotten mauled and gored by some wild animal. Another snarl echoed through the trees, louder this time. Cutting off one last strip of his now-in-tatters cloak, he wrapped it around his arm, and jumped up onto the fallen tree that the vandal had been standing on. He scraped his boots off on the rough bark, trying to eliminate as much of the blood as possible.

Only half-satisfied, but too cautious to stay any longer, he made a running leap for the nearest tree branch. He caught onto it, and heaved himself up into the canopy. He didn't take any time to admire the view. he simply looked around, searching for a river, or a pond, or something that would help him cover up his scent and keep the animals and Fallen off his trail.

Slowly, he made his way through the trees, careful of where he put his hands and keeping a watchful eye out for any sign of potential danger, whether it be from above or below.

 _Right then. North. Dragon wing star, obviously referring to the Wounded Hydra constellation._ If he had to travel through the night(which would be in his best interests, if he wanted to stay ahead of Silverhawk), he would follow the point of the Hydra's wing, and hope that the vandal hadn't been pulling a fast one on him.

As for his thoughts on the rest of what it had said...well, the words had disturbed him as least, and made him even angrier at best. It had obviously been talking about Twilight Gap and the Reef wars. A 'rematch' against the Last City and the awoken, this time ending in disaster, with over half the City and Reef fighting forces having been taken out by the disease.

And whatever 'she-awoken' that it had been talking about had been looking for something in the Certech lab. Remembering what Silverhawk and Cayde had said about Certech, it could only mean she was there for no good reason...or was she? If Certech had endured for long during the Collapse, then they may have made weapons...

Weapons for fighting the Darkness. He felt an excited chill run down his spine at the thought of returning home not only with the cure, but with a crate full of advanced weaponry as well. Weaponry that they could use to fight the Vex, weaponry that could make them feared even by the City.

Spotting the gleam of a river up ahead, and feeling like anything was possible now that he wasn't held back by Silverhawk and Martin, Uldren made his way down the tree he was in.

 ** _"If only I had been a little sloppier with my cover...maybe what happened next wouldn't have happened."_**

* * *

 **Okay, so half this chapter got deleted for some reason. Thankfully, I keep a full copy of all my fics. Unfortunately, I can no longer remember what the review Challenge for this chapter was, so I've decided just not to post it. Besides, this fic isn't popular enough to warrant proper responses to my reviews, it seems. Maybe when people like it more...?**

 **And WOW, Uldren's been having some morbid thoughts lately. This even caught ME by surprise, writing this. What do you guys think about his thoughts? How do you like his little narrations? Don't worry, though, we won't be reading doom and gloom for long; we'll be seeing some of Silverhawk's PoV in a few chapters. What do you guys think of Martin's little "nerd rage" episode? Our nervous little Warlock has a dark side! (:0**

 **That'll be blazing, won't it?**

 **BTW, that line Silverhawk says; it's in Klingon. It means "It's a good day to die!"**

 **Martin's a is a bit more insulting. "You mother has a smooth forehead." AKA, Klingon ultimatum.**

 **Next time: Things get real. Uldren strikes out on his own, has a bout of immaturity*MEGAGASP*, and we enter the creepiest building since Bates motel.**

 **I'll be seeing you all after Easter Vacation, so hang in there! Read and REVIEW!**

 **Cheers!^^**


	6. The Valley

**When terror and joy came as one...**

 ** _"Now, just so you're all aware, everything I thought or did on that mountain…it was the thin air talking; not me. Looking back, I'm absolutely disgusted with myself."_**

Uldren trekked over the ridge, feeling lighter than air. Probably the thin air playing tricks on him, but who cares. The water from the river had dried off long ago, and he had become numb to the searing cold that it had brought about in combination with the wind. Now that Silverhawk and Martin were far behind him, an exuberant rush of freedom had overtaken him.

He hadn't felt this free in years. Not since Mara's coronation; he'd been stuck at her side for a majority of his time, he was only allowed to partake in missions of utmost importance, and an almost successful assassination attempt three years ago had made his sister all the more clingy. The scar on his throat the throwing knife had left stood as a both a testament to the fact he was a prominent target, and that he was more resilient than his would-be-assassins had thought.

He'd almost forgotten the feeling of mud under his boots, the scent of rain on the air, the impressive prowess of the wind as it beat at him from all angles.

It was, for lack of a better word...

Awesome.

What was that word he'd heard Silverhawk use over the ship comms, when he'd been stuck listening to her and Martin? 'Blazing'?

Yeah, that sounded pretty good, too; 'blazing'.

"Blazing." he said it out loud just to test how it sounded. It sounded freeingly unique, considering who the word had originated from. He had been traveling for the whole day non-stop, and the sun was high in the sky. However, on Earth time, the sun was setting fast, and the clock was ticking down to three days.

He didn't know why he still considered that a time limit; he didn't care if Ikora died. Maybe it was just the urgency of Mara's situation that was pushing him into using his time with extreme prejudice.

Either way, he had finally made it to the Certech lab. Well, sort of; he still had to get down the mountain and cross the valley that lay between him and it. But as he finally reached the other side of the relatively small mountain, the view had opened up to reveal a small valley, a large tower placed against the far side of it next to the massive cliffs of another mountain.

The building was hundreds of feet high, and leaning dangerously outwards, broken glass glinting in the sunlight, its rusted form overgrown with vegetation. _I guess it would be too much to ask for it to be leaning towards the cliff wall?_

The rest of the valley looked like the rest of Venus did; impossibly beautiful. But this valley was in a different category all on its own. A waterfall cascaded down from the mountains next to the Certech tower, a winding river spreading out from the lake and across the valley like the branches from a tree. Fields encroached by small, scattered forests of what looked like, from this distance, trees like those would find on Earth, with what seemed to be clusters of blooming willows near the rivers and lake. There was a herd of…something making its way across the fields to the west, and flocks of four-winged birds were winging their way towards the clouds.

 _It looks like Certech must have done things to this area to make it look more like earth. Last time I checked, there were no trees like that on Venus._

Feeling like his euphoria couldn't be stopped by anything, even the height he was at, he spread his arms out as a particularly violent gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet.

"THIS. IS. BLAZING!" he yelled. His footing slipped of a fraction of a second, and his euphoria vanished, replaced by heart-pounding terror. He regained his balance, breathing deeply and trying not to picture himself falling to his death with a loud crunching noise as he hit the bottom.

He leaned a little farther out, trying to get an idea as to how he would be getting down. There was a rough, cracked road leading out of a tunnel in the mountain a fair distance below him. If he could climb down to it, it would give him a clear, easy path down the rest of the way. But he would have to leave the road as soon as he got the chance; if Silverhawk found the road and got the same idea, he didn't want to run into her.

Spotting an area of cliff that seemed stable enough, he got down on his knees and lowered himself over the edge, heart pounding as he felt a patch of gravel shift under his hand. If there was one thing that Uldren had never been okay with since birth, it was heights. Climbing up the mountain had made him nervous enough, though he had never had to scale anything; climbing backwards down a cliff face with no rope and nobody around to save him if he started to fall was a nausea-inducing concept that made him wish he had never volunteered for this mission in the first place.

Sure, he knew how to admire a view, and trees he was okay with; but mountains? Nope. Plain and simple nope.

He spent the next half hour slowly picking his way down the cliff, each movement sending a small bolt of fear with it. Would this be the rock that shifted and sent him to his doom? Would this be the one wrong step that ended him? Would this be the stone that cut his hand and caused the flinch that would result in a broken neck?

Would this be the non-existent foothold that resulted in Silverhawk and Martin finding his body, for real this time, splattered all over the old road?

He was starting to wonder if this is what Martin had felt like at the sight of the Ogre.

Uldren's fear of heights had originated from a terrifying misadventure at the age of three; his oldest memory, he had never forgotten. Him and his sister, who was ten at the time, had been presented to the awoken people plenty of times, and to a few diplomats from the Last City, but they had never been presented before the Last City publicly. Their mother, who had been Queen for eleven years by then, had decided that it was time for her children to meet the Speaker for the first time.

He couldn't remember meeting the Speaker _exactly_ ; he could remember a white mask, and that was about it. He had, however, while his mother was preoccupied with talking to the Speaker, spotted something particularly shiny and interesting. So, naturally, as most three-year-olds would do, he followed it, and had taken a tumble near the edge of some railing.

According to his sister, the object he had been chasing had been a Ghost, who had been too late in realizing that it had a tiny little follower, and sailed over the rails with the intention of going down to the City below. He could remember clinging to the low rail, as several Guardians shouted in panic. In the end, he was told, a young hunter had been the first on the scene, and had pulled the Prince up to safety.

The Ghost, of course, had apologized profusely. Mara said(and this was something he would never let anyone know about) that for the rest of the short visit, the Ghost had stuck by him, and he had clutched it in his arms the whole time as if it were some old teddy bear.

She also said it was like amputating an arm getting him to let go of the thing when it was time to leave.

What had happened in Martin's past to make him so, deathly afraid of Ogres?

 _I'm overthinking this; who wouldn't be afraid of Ogre's? They're_ Ogres _._ Of course, this wasn't any excuse for him to freeze up and hyperventilate like he did.

His stomach lurched as he lowered his foot once more, only to find to wall. He looked over his back…

And saw that the ground was only a few feet away.

Exhausted from the climb and limbs feeling like jelly, he dropped down, stumbling slightly at the change to solid ground. He let himself fall backwards, reveling in the simplicity of the smooth path. No nausea-inducing heights, not constant fear of death; just solid ground.

A harsh cry startled him from his reverie, and he sat bolt upright to look at the bird that had landed on a rock a few paces away. He looked at the tunnel, a massive chasm like the maw of some sort of beast, dark and unwelcoming.

 _Not that tunnel for my trip back, no thank you._ He wasn't a Guardian; he didn't have a Ghost who could guide his ship to him wherever he was. He would have to go all the way back to their old camp, where he could set up a long-range transmat to his ship.

Which meant, of course, avoiding Silverhawk and Martin, if they were still in the area.

 _I'll deal with that later._ He got up, brushing the dirt off his pants. His arm was throbbing from where he had cut it earlier, and the long climb down hadn't helped at all. He had wrapped a fresh strip of cloth around it before coming up on the other side of the mountain, but it was now soiled with blood. He could feel the liquid running down his arm unsettlingly, and he cut off another piece of his cloak, which was all but gone now, and replaced the makeshift bandage.

Burying the old one under a pile of pebbles, he made his way down the road, trying to ignore his growling stomach. His burnt omelet hadn't been all that filling, and he hadn't seen anything edible on his way up the mountain. In fact, he was pretty sure all of the fruit he had seen in the jungle was poisonous, and the few animals he had seen so far were either predators, or too far off for him to bother trying to catch them.

Besides, he didn't want to waste any of his time trying to cook. It would come out terrible anyway; he was the worst chef ever. He snorted out loud, chuckling.

 _I could probably kill Skolas by making him eat my cooking!_

The sun was sinking lower and lower as he finally left the old road and started to make his way through one of the many fields in the valley. There were various animals zipping through the grass, or flying up above, but he still didn't feel like catching any. Silverhawk had a Sparrow; he didn't. The battle might have delayed them, or perhaps even killed them, but if he wanted to beat Silverhawk to the cure, he was going to have to be fast.

And as much as his stomach may mourn the news, that meant that stopping to eat or forage was out of the question. Now, if he just so happened to pass some berries he knew to be safe, he'd gladly take as many as he could carry. But deliberately looking for sustenance was going to have to wait, even if eating probably _would_ help his arm heal faster.

Trying to keep his focus off his hunger, Uldren busied himself with studying his surroundings, which were even more spectacular up close. Stopping at one of the rivers for a quick drink, his mind was completely blown at how beautiful the willow trees were. He had never seen one up close before, only read about them, and the books didn't do the flowing branches and pink blooms justice.

He also had yet to see anywhere with this many dandelions. The fields were practically made of the small, yellow flowers, with patches of tall, waving lavender scattered here and there. The entire place smelled fresh and free, and as he got closer and closer to the tower, Uldren wished he could never leave.

But, alas, soon enough, he was only a few short hills away from the rusted complex, and the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over everything it touched.

The perfectly shaped hills were too hard to resist.

 _To heck with it all!_

Not bothering to look around and see if Silverhawk was conveniently riding along the road just in time to spot him, Uldren gave a whoop of carelessness and threw himself down the hill. He rolled to a stop at the bottom, his elbow smarting where it had hit a rock, and he scrambled to his feet. Not bothering to brush the grass off of him, he let out another cheer and ran up the next hill.

"I DON'T CARE!" he yelled to the sky. "I DON'T HAVE A CARE IN THE WORLD!"

Cartwheeling onto the rise, he rolled down again, barely feeling the sting in his arm. He came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and he lay there for a small while catching his breath.

He looked to the side, at the lab that now loomed over him, casting it's dull shadow over the area as the sun sank. The more he looked at it, the more it looked unstable, and the less he wanted to go into it. He could hear the metal creaking in the wind even from here, and the sound sent chills down his spine.

Signing, he got to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass off a best he could. His arm felt even worse now, and he was only just beginning to regret his behavior. Pulling a particularly itchy twig out of his hair, he made his way over the old, beat-up, cracked parking lot. Weeds sprouted from the cracks in the asphalt, and he thought he saw some sort of giant, grotesque bug scutter across the ground. There were large gashes in the ground in some places, particularly near the entrance, as if some massive creature had been trying to dig here recently.

 _Let's hope I don't run into it; those claws must be massive._ he had no intention of getting eaten for realH

He stepped over the doors to the building, which lay on the ground, broken and bent, and he blinked, trying to adjust to the new light. Once white tiles were now cracked and dirty, once gleaming windows were now destroyed or turned to muddy brown, the once strong, shining structure of the building now rusted, old, and dangerously unstable.

A sign up on one of the walls listed, in faded, once-white letters, directions to various places throughout the building. He walked up to it, eyes narrowed, trying to read the words. He had no idea where in this building the cure would have been kept, but this sign could probably give him an idea as to where to start looking.

One word in the middle, he finally concluded, read "Labs", with an arrow pointed towards a stair well off to the side of the lobby.

 _This is probably the most dangerous thing I've ever done._ he thought as he made his way over to the stairs. Enemies could be fought, diseases could be cured(most of them, anyway), but aged, failing architecture couldn't be touched. He couldn't stab it, he couldn't cure it; he could only put one foot in front of the other carefully, and hope that the whole thing didn't come crashing down.

He made his way up countless flights of stairs, seeming to be winding up and up forever without end. The creaking of the building, and the sound of the wind howling through cracks in the structure like ghosts, combined with what seemed to be the smell of something dead, sent chills down Uldren's spine every few seconds. He froze whenever a particularly loud creak or groan echoed through the building, and he stopped every time the wind picked up in violence, ready to bolt back down the stairs as fast as he could if need be.

Not that it would do him any good, considering how high up he was getting. He kept passing floors, each of them with faded labeling, looking for the one that sounded like it might have a cure in it. One floor stank horribly of some sort of mystery chemical that he didn't feel like getting acquainted with, and he sped up the stairs away from it as fast as he could. _It would probably be in some sort of Biogenetics Lab._

He was beginning to wonder if he would ever find such a lab, and was reaching the top of the building, when he finally found it. He had to practically pull himself up the stairs now because of the angle of the building, and he was trying to get away from the floor that stank, when he spotted a broken-down door( _recently_ broken?) on the next floor up, and noticed the label that was next to it. He stopped, covering his mouth with one hand to try and keep the stink out of his mouth.

 _Yes! Finally!_ He brushed the dirt off the label, checking to make sure he had read it right. "Company Biological Weapons Countermeasure Development and Storage". He stepped into the trashed room, looking around for anything that might be related to the disease. He was careful about, though, of course; he didn't want to get the cure for one ancient disease only to bring back another.

The lab itself was filled with rusted, dirty rows of old tables with old sinks lining the walls, and old ceiling fans fallen to the floor, and old glass boxes in some of the walls with old, soiled and destroyed rubber gloves hanging out of holes in their fronts. Another set of stairs at the other end of the room led, presumably, to the roof one floor above. Wide windows opened up to the view below, and Uldren tried to banish the queasy feeling that came both with the sight of the distance to the bottom, and the fact that he had to overcompensate his stance in order to stay standing in the dangerously leaning building.

There was a small _crack_ sound from somewhere up above him, on one of the upper floors, or even the roof, perhaps, and he whirled around, gun at the ready. He had only been a short climb away from the roof; it wouldn't be unlikely for him to hear a rock from the cliff hitting the top of the building. He lowered his weapon, but didn't put it away. He couldn't count out any wild animals making their homes in this building; he felt stupid for not considering that upon entering.

Spotting a door that hung open near one of the sinks, he made his way carefully to it. His heart skipped a beat as his foot slipped on a patch of wet moss, and his blood pounded in his ears as he gripped one of the rusted sinks to catch himself. He took a deep breath, regaining his balance, and, one hand on the wall sink counter just in case, continued towards the door.

Gripping the door frame, he pulled himself into the old room, and looked around at the broken, shattered containment units that littered the floor and leaned against the walls. He felt his gut twist in his stomach. _Please don't let one of these broken bottles be the cure..._

He shifted some of the glass with his foot, and started looking for any bottles that were still intact; even if it wasn't the cure, his people could still use it. As his eyes finished adjusting to the dim light, he noticed another door in the back of the room; metal this time, though ajar as well. The dim glow of a flickering computer screen flashed from within, and he took a step towards it. His boot crunched down loudly on the broken glass-covered floor, and only then did he realize that footsteps had been fast approaching. He froze, lifted his hand cannon...and forgot to compensate for the lean of the building, as the footsteps started again, faster, towards the room.

Then they stopped.

"Uldren?" came a surprised voice. _Crud!_ He whirled around, gun pointed at the shocked-looking Silverhawk. At the same time, the building shook as the sound of a ship breaking through the atmosphere boomed through the air. Silverhawk doubled over, gripping an old lab table for support, as Uldren's feet fell out from under him, and he began to slid painfully down the floor.

He kicked out, trying to catch the door frame, but the building heaved again and he missed. He scrambled to try and right himself, but his boots slipped uselessly on the wet, moss-patched floor. He slid past Silverhawk, and felt his cloak go taut around his neck. He twisted, taking the chance to get back on his feet, but loud rip and a panicked yelp from Silverhawk sent him sliding back down on his stomach.

The huntress made a grab for his wrist as soon as his cloak ripped, but she missed by a mile. He tore at the moss and cracks in the floor, heart pounding in his neck, terror pulsing through him like it never had before. Suddenly, he felt something solid underfoot, and he dared to look down.

It was the wall under the window! His hand cannon lay at his feet, surrounded by broken glass. The whole building shook and rattled and groaned, and he could see the ground getting visibly closer. He bent down and quickly put his gun in it's holster.

"Martin, get out of here! I'll get out fine!" Silverhawk yelled at her Ghost; or rather, the Warlock who was on the other end of the comms.

"I'm not going without you! No one else is going to die today because of me!" came the man's voice.

"Martin, Uldren's with me; he was here in the lab! Now GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I DIE BECAUSE I'M TOO BUSY ARGUING WITH YOU!" Silverhawk shouted back dramatically."Ghost, cut the comms."

"An YOU," she rounded on Uldren, glaring down at him from where she supported herself on the desk,"have a lot of explaining to do, mister!"

He opened his mouth to say something-anything, really-to both defend himself and insult her in the worst way possible, when the ground disappeared from beneath him, and he sky began tumbling past.

* * *

 **Muahahahahaha! And you thought you were safe from cliffhangers because this is a comedy? NEVER!**

 **Question of the Day: *Gasp!* NOT A REVIEW CHALLENGE? JAYFEATTHER, WHAT IS THIS MADNESS? Well, my friends...THIS. IS. DESTINY! What do you guys think of my version of the Destiny universe so far? One thing I've noticed about Destiny fics, is that people usually write things like they are in the game; like it's an RPG videe game instead of a written work. I've scrapped a bunch of in-game features from this fic, their absence will be more prominent later. Glimmer is still used as a currency, but I've re-purposed it; enough Glimmer can be condensed into an energy matter that can be programmed and shaped into objects. Basically, these are engrams, but they're so unstable that they only last about a second. This is the purpose the Chryptarchs will serve.(I spellt tat wong, didnt I?)**

 **Next time: Will Uldren be dead for good this time? Or will Silverhawk do something crazy? The answer to that question? Probably. But our favorite Hunter is hiding something, and it's no bouquet of roses...**

 **Hope you all had a good Easter Break! Please _REVIEW_ , I'm dying here, not knowing if people think this fic is good or not. By the way, might as well mention in passing that the next chapter is over 8,000+ words, and give or take the author's note could be _OVER_ _9,000!_ There. _That_ got your attention, right?**

 **Cheers!^^**


	7. Certech

**I lied to me; this is most definitely NOT 8,000 words.**

* * *

 **When humor hid horror...**

Silverhawk was one of those people who couldn't stand to be unhappy. One of those people who seemed to act more and more cheerful and humorous the worse the situation got, because they believed that humor and happiness were rallying cries for the ones around them who kept sinking lower and lower into despair. One of those people who used humor to hid their true feelings, one of those people who preferred to be left alone so they wouldn't have to pretend, so that they could be themselves and leave their shield down.

One of those people who couldn't stop laughing at the world, so that the world wouldn't forget how to laugh.

But right now, Silverhawk hadn't made a single joke since they'd found it; the bloodied clearing. She still couldn't believe what had happened, and Martin was still beating himself up something stupid about it. But it was undeniable; Uldren was dead, he had to be. Either he was dead, or would be dead very soon, or he was getting eaten that very moment, as they stood, shocked, in the blood-covered clearing.

She had recognized the Fallen blood and gore immediately; every Guardian could. Martin had thrown up almost immediately. She had scoured the clearing, looking for any sigh of their awoken partner. All she had found was some blood, and a few torn pieces of what she recognized as Uldren's cloak, which were partially soiled by Fallen blood. She had even found part of a sleeve of his armor, the cuff of which was soaked with awoken blood.

There were so many things that could have happened in that clearing, there was no way to know for sure. Uldren could have been attacked by a Fallen, stabbed it, and then assaulted by some jungle predator that had felt the urge to rip the Fallen into unrecognizable pieces before leaving. Uldren could have been attacked by a Fallen, attempted to stab it, only to get his hand bitten off by some jungle predator that had tried to eat the Fallen, puked it up, and then decided to have Uldren for breakfast instead.

Uldren could have come across some jungle predator while it was mutilating it's prey(the Fallen), and then gotten carried off himself after having his arm bitten off and his sleeve torn off in the process. Why carried? because, the branches in the trees above the clearing had been disturbed, some of them broken, others bent, in a rough path away from the clearing. The talon prints in the ground around the scene of the crime stopped at the first tree, but they never showed up again when they reached the end of the trail.

The last of the disturbed, scuffed-up trees was at the edge of a small river, where she had found some more scattered droplets of awoken blood but nothing else. As she zoomed through the dark tunnel on her Sparrow, Martin a little ways behind her on his own, she couldn't stop thinking about how off the Prince's death seemed.

There had been no blood trail that had dripped down from the trees(little of it awoken blood, anyways) that the predator had climbed, and some of the claw marks had seemed oddly off. The scuffing on the trunk of the last tree had suggested that the climber had been wearing boots. Had a Fallen been climbing that tree before the predator had come along?

Or had the dead Prince(presumably minus a hand) used the trees to escape the monster, only for it to chase him through the branches? If so, had it caught him near the river, and eaten him in one bite, resulting in the lack of massive blood around the bank? But if a one-armed Uldren, maybe delirious with pain, had somehow managed to climb trees in order to escape the predator, why wasn't there more awoken blood on the ground and on the trees? A ripped-off limb would have caused a lot of bleeding, more than could be stanched without a med kit, even with an entire cloak pressed to the wound.

 _Or maybe I'm overthinking things._

She gripped the handles of her Sparrow tighter. She had _never_ lost anyone. Not on a mission, and certainly never so quickly. Maybe if she hadn't forgotten her gun, this wouldn't have happened? Maybe if she had just used the _Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick_ to fight the Fallen instead of charging them on her Sparrow...

But it had been so long since she had had so many potential victims gathered all up in one area like that! How could she _not_ turn them all into road kill when the opportunity had presented itself so perfectly?

But more guilty than her was Martin, who had left the Prince's side to help her fight(which she was grateful for; she could only run over so many fallen before one got caught on the front of her ride and caused her to spin out), pulling out the _Deathening_ and entering his rage zone.

Martin was but a feeble, humble nerd in a long line of nerdy Warlocks. But he was the nerdiest. He knew the every name of every star, he could recite about a hundred epic poems by heart, he could tell you how old you were just by looking at you, he could name every king or queen who had ever lived, tell you all about Earth's greatest empires and how they fell, he could list every name of every soldier who fell at Twilight Gap without so much as a glance at the memorial stone.

But when you gave him a machine gun, the _Deathening_ specifically, or some other great weapon of mass destruction...he entered the nerd rage zone. Nerdy Warlocks, especially nerdy Warlocks like Martin, all had the potential for angry break-downs if you pushed them too far. Legend had it that it was an ancient self-defense technique passed down from nerds before.

The nerd rage was both unsettling and inspirational to witness.

But this time, it had cost them. Uldren had continued into the cover of the forest on his own, and by the time the Fallen had decided to run for the hills, it had been too late to save him. If they found the cure in Certech, their return to the Reef would be a bitter one. All the worse was that they couldn't even give the Queen a body; just the bloodied cloak they'd found at the scene.

Martin, consequently, blamed himself for letting the Prince go off on his own. She'd tried to reassure him that he would have been killed as well, that it wouldn't have made a difference, but he wouldn't hear any of it; he was guilty, and that was that.

She was beginning to think that she had maybe said the wrong thing then, but her thoughts were too busy right now to think up a proper apology. Thoughts about Uldren, thoughts about the disease, more thoughts about Uldren...and thoughts about Certech.

 _None of this would have happened if not for that stupid Certech disease._ She squeezed even harder, but the Sparrow was already going as fast as it could. _Certech._

It was all their fault. How many more people would die because of them?

 _None. I'll make sure of it; Uldren will be the last person ever to die because of Certech._

Her blood soaking the ground, forest floor cutting her back, her stomach cut open and strewn all about.

She banished the thought, but still looked down at her stomach briefly before putting her focus on the dark road ahead of her again. But it was hard, _oh_ , it was hard, not to think about _that_ night, after encountering so similar a scene. She had told Martin all about her; he was one of only six people in the universe who knew about... _her_ , and on of five of those people who knew about her that trusted her completely and didn't care about what Certech did to her. Well, one of four, since Brask had died...

But even Martin didn't know about _that_ night. Nobody did. Well, nobody except her ghost, Westley, that was agiven; she trusted her ghost more than she trusted herself, and didn't count as one of those three people because he had never given her past a second thought. He'd been, pun completely intended, a little light in the dark after she'd been revived.

If it weren't for Westley and Martin, she wouldn't be alive right now...

And maybe Uldren wouldn't be dead.

 _Let's not go there._

She didn't need to have worries about her capabilities as a guardian on top of everything else right now.

"There's an opening just up ahead." Westley's voice rang, loud and clear, from where he liked to sit in her hood. She had no idea why he liked it in there; it sounded like a musty, stuffy place to be. Maybe it was because she never really wore a helmet? Most Ghosts "pixelized" into their Guardian's helmet systems. Martin never really wore a helmet either, unless they were on the moon; his ghost, Wheatly, treated Martin's top pocket like a second home.

She still didn't get why Martin's ghost was such a scardy cat. You couldn't literally say the word "boo" as quietly as you could, and he would still give a little start of fright. If ghosts were people, Martin's would have about...oh, _every_ nervous tick the world had ever produced since nervous ticks had been invented?

They burst out into the light, and she heard Martin swerve behind her. Glancing back, she saw him manage to regain control, and grin at her sheepishly. The grin quickly turned back into a frown, and she turned back to the road with a sigh.

At this point, it was unlikely that Martin would ever stop blaming himself for Uldren's death. _I'll just have to stay strong for him; stay normal._

She didn't want her friend to worry about her when he already had so much on his mind.

Martin had the _Deathening_ , a custom machine gun she'd made just for him, slung over his back in a large sack. She'd made it and her own overlord of heavy-weaponry mayhem, the _Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick_ , as an experimental set about a year ago. She'd always been interested in guns, how they worked and how she might be able to modify them.

After them, she'd taken her old Renegade Mk.55, her first gun, left for her as a present by Andal Brask himself upon her graduation, and modified it so that it, too, could taken on the tougher enemies that usually only high-quality guns like Esyaluna could handle quickly. "Ol' Reliable", she called it. The gun she'd gone back to earth to fetch... mostly. Sure, she had left it there by accident last time they were at the Tower, taking it out for cleaning and forgetting to re-holster it, and Martin had left the Deathening(which was why she'd asked Cayde to bring it, but he'd forgotten to get Ol' Reliable while he was at it), but mostly the reason she had gone was because she'd heard her foster mother had caught the disease. Cayde had contacted her discretely and informed her about it on the way to Venus.

She hadn't told Martin about it yet; the last thing he needed on his mind was the fact that their mother was counting on them as well now... She shook the thoughts from her mind focusing on the valley ahead.

The sun was halfway down the sky, painting the glorious valley with golden light as it shone through the thin layer of clouds above. It was a surprisingly clear day by Venus standards; the sky was clear of the usual thick clouds, and the veins of blue light that poured from the mountains and through the sky like rivers shone and glittered eerily.

The valley was undoubtedly beautiful, but all Silverhawk could see was the darkness behind the beauty. It was undoubtedly the result of Certech terraforming. Everything was _too_ perfect, and the rotting building at the other end of the Valley seemed to stand as a constant reminder of what the valley's creators were like, a constant monument to the evil that this amazing place had come out of.

As soon as Cayde had mentioned Certech, there had started a constant war inside her head. A war to keep the memories suppressed, and her projection of happiness alive. And now, that war reached its high point.

She kept silent the whole way to the building, fearing to talk lest her voice give away her true feelings. All the while, she fought to keep herself from thinking about Certech, about what they had done, how they had ruined _everything_ for the entirety of _forever_.

And she failed. The images and memories still flashed through her mind, burning into the back of her sight until she felt like crying. As they approached the building, she struggled to regain control of herself, and barely managed to do so as they pulled up to the ruined parking lot.

"Kyyyyyaaaaa ahhhh!" Came Martin's startled cry, the sound of banging metal ringing out at the same time. She snapped her head around just in time to see Martin fly over the front of his Sparrow, the front of the vehicle apparently having hit the ground while he was breaking.

He landed on his back with a grunt, his robes spread out over his head. She snickered.

"Shut up, Silverhawk." He groaned, pushing himself to a sitting position. "I think I broke a rib."

"No you didn't." Westley floated out of her hood and gave the Warlock a quick scan. "You're perfectly fine; surprisingly resilient, actually."

"But what if he did?" Wheatly questioned, peaking out of his pocket.

"But, he didn't."

"And if he _did_?"

"So?"

"Exactly."

"What?"

"Calm down, children. Let not lose our heads, here." Silverhawk chided in her best Cal Johnson impression.

"Okay, you saw that show _once_ , and you can do a near perfect impression _as a woman_. _HOW_!?" Martin snorted.

"Through great time and practice, young grasshopper. Now, let us continue with the entering of the great and nobel House of Black—"

 **"House of Black? I've never heard of that before. Is there a new House out there that we didn't know about?"** Petra's voice came from over the comms worriedly. Silverhawk's heart dropped to the bottom of her gut.

"Hey, you're back! And no, that was just a reference, to a book. You know, Harry Potter." She replied. Martin looked down at the ground guiltily, plucking at a patch of grass with one hand.

 **"No. I don't."** Petra said wryly, though there was relief in her voice. **"Put Prince Uldren on, it's time we explained the plan."**

Martin and Silverhawk looked at each other. This was the conversation they had been dreading ever since the incident. They nodded to each other, the tiniest of nods, meant to console each other in this terrifying moment of revelation.

"About that, Petra…he ran off without us." she started. She took a deep breath. "We were attack by a small troop of Fallen. They let a bullet volley loose, and Uldren went to take cover in the jungle. By the time the fight was over, he was long gone. We managed to track him, but there was…nothing left, that we could see. We're sorry Petra; Uldren's dead."

 **"WH—"** the comms went dead, replaced by a high-pitched whining that made Silverhawk's ears explode (not really; that's just a saying).

"Ah!" the two guardians gripped their ears, the sound like one-thousand forks being scrapped across one thousand plates, making their teeth hurt and their bodies squirm with discomfort. But soon, there were other sounds within the noise as well, like faints echoes of people screaming in agony. The screams grew louder and louder, and the ghosts were just beginning to zoom away from them, taking the noise with them, when the signal suddenly cut.

Silverhawk slowly brought her hands away from her ears, which were still ringing faintly.

"What…the bloody…poop…" she said slowly.

"That's disgusting!" Martin exclaimed, voice high-pitched with fear. "And watch your language; you know I have language sensitivity!"

"Okay, deadly disease; check. Terraformed valley; check. Creepy, possibly haunted building; check. Nightmare fuel; check. Yup, this is Certech alright. Good luck getting to sleep for next, like fifty years of your life. Petra, you still there?" Silverhawk checked off before addressing the hopefully still-in-contact awoken.

 **"What killed him?"** she asked shakily.

"Some kind of animal, it looked like. It was all very strange. We found a gored fallen, some torn cloths, and a knife. We found his sleeve, it looks like he lost an arm perhaps, but other than that, there was no sign of him. No tracks, no trail, nothing. Just some blood by a river. If he managed to run after losing his arm, he either got eaten whole somewhere along the line, or he bled out in a cave." Silverhawk explained solemnly. She had never felt this depressed, _ever_. Except maybe during Certech.

A loud, animalistic, snarling hiss interrupted them. They jumped. She gulped.

"And about what attacked him, Petra…I think we're about to meet it." She felt a hot breath on her neck. "It's right behind me, isn't it?"

Martin whimpered, nodding. She slowly turned around. It was huge, monkey-like, three person-sized talons on each foot; an exact match to the prints they had found near Uldren's death site. Its face was narrow like a dragon's, with two saber-like fangs at the front of its mouth twice the size of her. Its lips pulled up in a snarl, revealing that the only other teeth it had were in a row at the front of its mouth. Its eyes were non-existent, and there were merely hole where they should have been.

A glob of wet saliva dripped down and hit Silverhawk in the face.

"EEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" she exclaimed. "Ewwll!"

"Mommy mommy nonononononono! " Martin let out a long, high-pitched whimper. His Ghost zoomed into his pocket, which now quivered uncontrollably.

 **"Guardian, get out of there, _now_!"** Petra's voice came from over the comms.

Silverhawk hit the gas just as the creature lunged, and its maw crashed down on where she had been mere seconds before.

"Can't believe I'm saying this but GET IN THE CERTECH LAB!" she drifted in a circle, trying to ignore the feeling of the creature's saliva dripping down her face. She grabbed Martin bay by the back of his robes and dragged him along after her.

"Ow, OAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he screamed as she dragged him, the creature pounding after them, roaring and snarling. "ROAD BURN! ROAD BURN!"

She threw him forwards through the ancient doors of the building and crashed through them herself. Martin tumbled along the floor, and the creature let out a horrifying sound. Its head was lowered to their level, peering through the doors with no eyes.

Martin let out a nervous laugh. "We're gonna die. We're gonna get eaten whole just like Uldren, and we're gonna get digested and possibly puked up later for that thing's offspring. I don't think I have to use the bathroom anymore."

"And you called _me_ disgusting?" Silverhawk scrunched her nose up at him. _Ugh, and I_ touched _him and_ everything _!_

Just kidding; everything that I could have relieved myself of, I threw it up earlier." He whimpered.

The beast scratched at the ground outside of the door. Silverhawk took out Ol' Reliable, took aim, and fired. The creature reared back with a screech.

 _That was for Uldren, you big stupid brute!_ There was, of course, no way to tell if it was the _exact_ creature that had eaten Uldren; but there seemed to be some kind of closure that came with blaming it, and shooting it.

But the shot hadn't done as much damage as she thought it had; there was barely a scratch on the creature's scaly, furred body. She fired off another shot, and then another, and finally emptied the mag. She reached to her side for a fresh one, replaced the empty one, and took aim again, firing once more. The predator let out another screech with each shot, and after firing the first shot from her new mag, it seemed to finally give up, and it stalked away, growling.

"Well, at least that solves our problem until it discovered how to break down walls." Martin commented, voice still high-pitched.

 **"Are you two alright down there?"** Petra asked as Silverhawk's Ghost came out of his hiding place in her hood. Martin groaned, pulling off his now-torn robes and lifting his tunic to reveal the bloody road rash beneath on his back.

"Road-burned, and slobber-covered," she tried to wipe the stick substance off her face with one hand as she dissmounted her Sparrow, but to no avail, "but otherwise alright."

 **"GOOD BECAUSE I'M GOING TO KILL YOU TWO WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU! _ONE DAY_ , OUR PRINCE IS WITH YOU _ONE DAY_ AND HE'S ALREADY DEAD?! WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED OUT THERE!?"**

A loud groan shook the building, and a similar sound to that of the interference from before echoed through the comms once before fading again. Martin shifted nervously from where he sat.

"You know what, how's about we get this interference out of the way before you start screaming at us, shall we?"Silverhawk told her. Silence answered her. "Hello?"

Still silence.

"Petra, come in. Are you okay up there?" she tried again. There was static this time, but nothing else. She looked around the building.

"Okay, that's a bit odd. The signal just vanished." he Ghost commented.

"Ha! Odd?" Martin let out a nervous laugh. "More like 'undeniably creepy'. Is this place haunted? I think it's haunted. I'm definitely, one hundred percent sure that this place is haunted."

"There's no such thing as ghosts, Martin." Silverhawk snorted.

Westley made a meaningful cough sound.

"Except these ones." she pointed at him.

"You're sure it's not Uldren haunting us? He certainly seemed like the kind of guy to haunt people." the Warlock continued nervously.

"I ain't afraid of no ghosts!" she declared, walking over and pulling him up by the back of his robes. She dragged him with her towards a stairwell, ignoring his protests.

"No! No! Ow! Silverhawk! No, I'm not-ow! Heather! Knock it off! Let me go, I am NOT going into a haunted-"

A loud groan of metal interrupted him, and there was a loud snarl from outside, reminding them that they could hardly go back. Turning and releasing her grip on her friend, Silverhawk saw the creature prowling just outside the door again.

"You know what? On second thought, I think I'd rather take my chances with the building." Martin said, going even paler than before. He stood up shakily, wincing and putting a hand to his side, where the road burn had been most prominent. His normally net robes were now torn horribly in places, and he now sported a cut on the side of his face. It was no small miracle that his glasses were still intact after their encounter.

"Come on; lets start with these stairs." she told him gently. She halted in front of the first step, and looked back at her Sparrow. She could see martin's outside, getting tossed about and torn to shreds of metal by the predator. _You know what? I think I'de be much more comfortable knowing my precious vehicle is in safer hands than that of this shoddy old front room._

She ran over, grabbed the handles, and, half pushing, half pulling, she lugged it up the stairs after her, Martin facepalming as she passed him, though he cast a mournful glance at the creature before following her.

"My shotgun was on that sparrow." he murmured sadly.

And so they set off up the stairs, winding ever upwards. Martin questioned several times as to whether this was the right way to go, but Silverhawk responded each time by telling him that they might as well start _somewhere_. Eventually, her Sparrow became too much of a hassle to carry up, and she left it in a room little more than halfway up. Other than that, the climb was done in silence, both Guardian's occupied with their own thoughts, Silverhawk's(unfortunately)about Certech, Martin's no doubt about Uldren, and how they would break the news to the Queen.

' _I wonder if she'll have us beheaded_ ' was only a small, vague thought in her mind right now. Right now, she was thinking about all the horrible traps that Certech could have left for them here, and why there weren't any Fallen in the building where the Fallen had gotten the deadly disease which was the reason they were in the building in the first place.

After a while, they had to pull themselves up the stairs with no small amount of effort; for the wounded, road-burned Martin, at least. The building was leaning at an angle, and it got steeper as they got higher.

"Can we _please_ take a break?" Martin panted as they got close to the top. He lent against the wall as they came up on another landing, Silverhawk taking a good look at the sign by the door.

"We took a break three stairs ago." she replied, trying the door handle.

"That wasn't a break; that was a 3-second pit-stop at an Indy car race." the Warlock snorted. A hissing sound filled the air, making him jump. Silverhawk looked down, and saw a whitish green mist leaking out from under the door.

"Trap!" she shouted, grabbing Martin and hurling him at the next set of stairs. He yelped, and Silverhawk bit her lip, holding her breath as a foul smell invaded the air.

They scrambled up the stairs as fast as they could, and she kicked down the nest door.

"Are you crazy?" Martin yelled. She pushed him into the room, and he stumbled, catching on to a table to keep himself from sliding down the floor and out the broken windows.

"Yes." she replied simply, taking out a kinetic shield from her pocket and placing it in the doorway. The device activated, and a faint, blue barrier formed between them and the poisoned air outside.

"That was a close one." Westley commented. He flew out the window. Silverhawk let out a huff.

"Well, fine then! Good luck to ya!" she exclaimed.

"Next time, I would appreciate you being a little gentler." Martin said, pulling himself to his feet and supporting himself with the table.

Silverhawk's Ghost came back through the window and zoomed up beside her.

"Decided that the grass wasn't greener?" she inquired.

"No. The poison should be dissipated completely in a few minutes. I've also got a lock on the signal from earlier, though; it's coming from inside this room somewhere. And..." he trailed off. Silverhawk narrowed her eyes.

"Westley?" she asked chidingly. "What did you scan?"

"I...it could have been some sort of system malfunction, but for a moment I thought I...picked up life signs, some distance down the stairwell. _Awoken_ life signs." he told them hesitantly. Martin groaned.

"I knew it." he wailed. "We're being haunted! Uldren's mad at us so now he's haunting us."

"Martin, for the last time; there's no such thing as people coming back from the dead!" she gasped. Her ghost gave a meaningful cough that sounded suspiciously like the word "Guardians". She sighed, facepalming.

"You know what? I should just keep comments like that to myself." she let loose a deep breath. "It was probably just a system error, like Westley said. That, or it was just a tiny system error and it's actually Petra down there. In which case, we should probably find the cure before _she_ finds _us_ , skins us, and hangs us up to dry."

Martin shuttered. "Gee, thanks for putting _that_ image in my head."

"You're welcome." she stated. "Now let's go see what that spooky old signal is all about."

The Warlock let out a nervous grinding noise in his throat as she followed Westley's lead to a door near the back wall of the room.

"I don't think this is a good idea." he said, looking around nervously.

"Martin, I highly doubt that Uldren would be wasting his precious time haunting _us_ , if he was a ghost at all. He'd probably go back to the Reef and look after the Queen, or haunt her guards or something." she tried to reason with him, unsheathing one of her blades and jamming it into the lock. She focused her light and charged it with arc energy, and the door burst open, the lock exploding.

She jumped back to avoid it, and her back smarted painfully against one of the tables.

"Ow! Stupid furniture!" she exclaimed, rubbing her back. Martin looked at her nervously as she regained herself and made her way into the room.

 _Well, we've had some cowboys in here!_ There were broken bottles and knocked-over containment units all over the place, and the whole floor was coated in broken glass. Westley illuminated the area, and floated over to an old, gray door, covered in rust.

"Too much to ask to turn just one door into ajar?" she commented, using the same door-busting technique she had just used.

The door creaked open rather than exploding this time, though; which was odd, seeing as it was made of much more metal than the first door. She pushed it open to find an old room, with nothing in it except an old computer, with an old, cracked screen, and an old, round device in front of it.

She heard Martin shuffle up behind her, and she entered the room completely. Walking up to the computer, she leant over it with both hands on the desk. A grin spread across her face. _This is too perfect!_

"Shall we play a game?" she asked her friend. He rolled his eyes with a snort.

"Don't do that."

She smiled at him more, and then looked over the desk. The round device was the only thing there, and she tapped at it a few times with one finger.

Suddenly, a small spike ejected from the top of the device, piercing through her finger.

"Yow!" she yelped, pulling her hand back. "Stupid thing!"

The spike pulled back into the device, and loud beeping sounds came from it.

"DNA identified." it eventually said in a broken, robotic voice. "Project Zero, confirmed."

Silverhawk felt her blood boil at the words, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. _Why? Why? What is this? Why here? Why here?_

She felt Martin's hand wrap around her own, and the screen flickered on with what seemed to be great internal struggle.

"H-hello? Hello? Okay, good, it's on." the static on the screen was too bad to discern a face, but it sounded like an old man speaking. Silverhawk felt her stomach twist, recognizing the voice, and all the fear and pain it brought with it. "Listen, if you're seeing this...it means they've succeeded. They've made the super virus. And you're one of the few people I can trust."

Silverhawk and Martin exchanged looks. _One of the few people he can trust? Why would he trust_ me _?_

"If you just so happen to be Project Zero...it means that I, too, have succeeded, and that you received these coordinates shortly after you escaped." he continued. _What is he talking about? What does he mean? Unless..._ "It also means that, well, unfortunately, I am dead. If it truly is you listening to this right now, then your DNA will trigger another message to follow this one, a message that will explain much to you, and that you will doubtfully find quite useful. But for now, I think we should leave as this; yes, I am The River."

She felt like she was shape-shifting. Like every bone in her body was breaking and rearranging to form something new. But it was really everything in her mind that was breaking. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to run away; but most of all, she wanted to destroy this computer.

 _He... he was The River..._ he _led my escape? The man who destroyed my life is the same one who tried to give it back? How...?_

"Now, listen carefully, whoever you are. There is no cure for the virus in existence; _yet_. But I know how to create it. There is an equation; any competent scientist would be able to decipher it. I have engraved the equation on a metal cylinder, and I have left it hidden in compartment similar to this one at one of my personal labs, at these coordinates. 7.1221 degrees south, 106.4231 degrees east, Earth. You're going to need your lucky rabbit foot for this one, and a great tolerance for heat."

"Oh, nooo..." Wheatly moaned from inside his pocket. At the same time, Westley let out a similar sound.

"What?" Martin questioned looking down his pocket.

"The Coordinates set the lab at an active volcano. It was dormant for centuries, but has become more and more dangerous over the past few years. What's worse; the Fallen _love_ it for some reason." the ghost told them, giving a nervous laugh. "We're all going to die!"

"Are not." Silverhawk snorted, turning back to the screen, as the blood drained from Martin's face.

There was an odd flicker, and a beep, and the new message seemed to begin.

"Now...I know that you hate me. It's perfectly within reason for you to hate me. Whatever I do, you will still hate me, but...I hope that, by freeing you, I can at least give myself some consolation. Project Zero Initiative must never see the light of day; your escape ensures that." the voice sounded more tired now, as if the old man had not slept in days. The old rage boiling within her at the sound of his voice was now uncertain, and her head was still spinning.

"What we did to you... what _I_ did to you...was unforgivable. That is why, I decided, to terminate Project Zero Initiative, of my own accord. Unfortunately, it is not the final solution. As long as you are-" the feed cut off with a violent screeching sound, like a disk being mutilated within a player. The two Guardians jumped, covering their ears, and Westley hastily attempted to hack the computer and put an end to the noise.

"What the what!?" Silverhawk shouted.

The monitor crackled, the screen cracked, the side of the computer exploded, sending bits of circuitry and side panel everywhere. Silverhawk stared at it, mind drawing up a blank.

"No, no, no, no no no! No!" she exclaimed as she regained herself. She scrambled to pick up the bits of computer and shove them into a pile, as if they would magically fuse back into the monitor if she gathered them close enough together.

 _What was he going to say? Was he going to say if there was a cure? I have to know! There_ has _to be a way to cure it!_

Her vision blurred, and her hands shook. Giving up trying to gather the pieces, she gave into the tears that had pounded on the backs of her eyes since arriving on Venus. She felt a comforting hand on her back, her ever-faithful friend, the one she couldn't live without.

"Two hundred years..." she said, voice cracking. "Why can't they stop ruining my life, after two hundred years?"

"They may have ruined your life, Heather." Martin said quietly. "But it's up to you to choose which life they ruined more; this one, or before."

She tried to calm her breathing, moving her sunglasses up slightly so as to rub the tears from her eyes. _Martin's right. But why? Why does Certech have to keep haunting me wherever I go? First The Ridge, then the Manhattan Outpost; and now this? When will it all end? Will they ever truly be gone from my life?_

Well, she knew the answer to _that_ question:

No.

"We...should probably go now. This building is incredibly unstable, and that Awoken life sign I mentioned earlier? Well, they're getting closer." Westley said slowly. "So unless you _like_ the idea of getting skinned alive by Petra when she finds us, I suggest we move as quickly as possible."

Martin, eyes widening, pulled Silverhawk to her feet abruptly. She squawked in protest as he practically dragged her through the old storage room and out into the open again.

"Sorry, Madame; I don't want to die today!" he told her, pulling her in the direction of the other stairs, the ones opposite of the door they had come through.

"Westley!" she shouted, looking back at the oxygen shield in the doorway.

"Got it!" he called. With a quick scan, the shield turned off. Her ghost zoomed back towards her, let off a magnetic signal, and the shielding device shot towards him. She caught it just before it hit, and just as Martin hit the stairs.

She stumbled and protested as she was dragged backwards up the stairs; whereas Hunters are known for their expert footing, no-one was _that_ good. She was shocked by the cold, crisp air of the outside world, and the dark colors overtaking the already-set Venus sun. The clouds that usually cloaked their skies were returning, and could be seen where the horizon would be the next morning.

She shook Martin's grip off her arm, but the Warlock was already fumbling for the transmat beacon strapped in his belt. A loud groan shook the building, and Silverhawk looked down at her feet uneasily.

The roof itself looked as if it had one been a landing pad at some point. The only footholds keeping her and her partner from sliding down and over-or through- the rusted safety bars at the edge of the roof were the large cracks and small fissures in the concrete, and deceptively slippery patches of moss and grass grew out of many of them.

Martin activated the beacon, and slammed it down, sticking it through the roof. Wheatly floated out of his pocket.

"The _Timey-Wimey_ is incoming, the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ will take just a little longer." he said, depressed. "Hopefully they'll get here before the building falls out from underneath us."

"Geez, what's got you so depressed?" Silverhawk questioned. The ghost turned to her with a whir and the closest thing to a doleful expression a ghost could obtain.

"The universe." he stated plainly. "And our uncanny magnetic attraction to bad luck."

Like a punch to the gut, realization slapped Silverhawk in the face.

 _My Sparrow! I left it in the building!_ She started back to towards the exit stairs carefully.

"What are you doing?" Martin called as the wind began to pick up around them even more.

"My Sparrow is still in the building! I'll just go up beside it, and then Westley'll transmat it with me onto the _Wibbley-Wobbly_. Simple." she called back, dodging inside and out of the wind before he could finish his protest.

She sprinted down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her, not caring if the Queen's Emissary could or could not be waiting at the bottom to throttle her violently. She was just entering the old lab when a sound made her freeze.

 _Crunch._

She halted, heart pounding. _Petra's going to kill me, she's going to kill me, she's going to kill me._ It was the sound of glass dust breaking underfoot, the sound of someone moving in the old storage room.

 _Well, time to face the music then._ She supposed she ought to get all the yelling with over right now, but she let her right hand rest on the handle of her right blade just in case it wasn't the raging, one-eyed awoken. She felt another pang of guilt over Uldren, and, putting on her best 'Yes, I am ashamed' face on, she stepped forwards.

But her eyesight was as fast as her reflexes, and expression shifted to shock before the occupant of the room could turn around. Her mind went blank, her brain broke, and all at the same time her inner subconscious was already at work putting the pieces together to solve the problem.

"Uldren?" she exclaimed, wondering for a second if Martin was right and the Prince _was_ haunting them. The awoken whirled around, handcannon pointing, and a loud boom shook the air...and the air kept shaking. Wait, no; the whole _building_ was shaking, the whole _world_ , the WHOLE FREAKING UNIVERSE!

She fell backwards, and gripped the desk behind her as it smarted her spine painfully. Uldren's feet slid out from under him as the building heaved violently, the sounds of creaking infrastructure and breaking glass filling the air with a deafening orchestra of destruction.

 _Oh, no you don't!_ Ghost or not, she wasn't going to loose the Prince a second time. She landed forwards, on hand wrapped around the edge of the desk, and grabbed Uldren's considerably-in-worse-shape-than-before cloak as he slid past. The awoken twisted in her grip, legs kicking for a hold in the floor, and the cloak tore off from around his neck.

She dropped the cloth and her arm shot out to make a grab for his before her brain even had time to process the action. But the Prince was already sliding down towards the windows again, too far for her to grab him. Her stomach gave a lurch, to be replace with relief when Uldren's descent was halted by the wall beneath the window. He gave a start as he realized he had stopped falling.

"I'm starting to think Wheatly was right about our luck." Westley commented in a strained voice. "He's sending a transmission."

 **"Heather, forget your Sparrow; you can build a new one; now GET OUT OF THERE!"** her best friend's voice yelled.

"Martin, get out of here! I'll get out fine!" Silverhawk yelled back over the din of the building.

 **"I'm not going without you! No one else is going to die today because of me!"** he snapped in a very un-Martinish tone.

"Martin, Uldren's with me; he was here in the lab! Now GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I DIE BECAUSE I'M TOO BUSY ARGUING WITH YOU!" Silverhawk shouted back dramatically. "Westley, cut the comms."

"An YOU," she turned her gaze on Uldren, irritability mixing with recent stress, "have a lot of explaining to do, mister!"

Glaring up at her, Uldren had barely opened his mouth when the wall fell out from underneath him.

"Westley the Sparrow!" she yelled, for without another heartbeat of thought, she leapt out from behind the desk and ran at the window, legs pumping to maintain her equilibrium on the falling surface. The window loomed ahead in the space of a second, and she used the remainder of the wall to launch herself into the air.

She pressed the left arm of her sunglasses as she leapt, and then snapped her arms inwards. The arms of her glasses tightened, and white displays flickered across the black glass. She spotted the Prince's falling form, and counted to three.

She tried to ignore the debris that followed them, and she was at Uldren's side by the count of two. She snapped her arms out to catch the air, and she could literally feel her breakfast dancing around in her stomach.

"Hold on!" she yelled over the rush of wind. She seriously hoped that the straps on her fedora would hold.

"To what you idiot!?" he screeched at her.

Westley was at her side, clearly struggling to keep up with them. She smirked. A blue and black blur arrived at the edge of her vision.

She grabbed the handles of her Sparrow and flattened herself against the seat, fitting her feet into the peddles. _Boy, am I glad I Martin-proofed this thing._ She flicked the switch at the head of the vehicle, and felt the extension extend out the back. The ground loomed ever closer as the building fell forwards.

She looked back up just in time to see Uldren grab the back of her seat and the handle of the extension. _No time for foot security!_ She decided.

She pulled up, pushing the upwards thrusters as far as they could go. Sudden weight jerked the nose up from the extension, and she angled to the left to avoid a piece of debris.

"We're not going to make it!" Westley yelled from where he had taken refuge in one of her empty ammo pouches.

She blasted the forwards thrusters, and her Sparrow pitched forwards. Keeping the nose up was one of the greatest struggles of her entire life, as debris flew past her and the ground grew ever closer.

 _Oh, poop, oh poop oh poop oh SNAP oh poop! Fart snapple pop!_

Her teeth clacked together painfully as they reached the ground, the Sparrow striking the dirt violently. She heard Uldren yelp behind her, and risked a glance back to see if he was still on the vehicle.

 _Mamma mia..._

Now she greatly regretted looking back. Uldren was still holding on, but the building was still falling, bearing down on them with a storm of debris that got bigger with each falling piece. She pushed the Sparrow harder, but it was already going as fast as it could, and it was still bouncing and skidding along the ground uncontrollably as they relied on luck alone not to get crushed by any of the large concrete chunks that were falling from the building.

"Woa, woa woa! NONONONONONONO WORSTE ESCAPE PLAN EVER!" she yelled.

"What did you expect, moron; you jumped out of a building!" Uldren yelled back angrily.

"Yeah; saving your hide! Which I wouldn't have had to do if you'd met up with us!" she countered.

Perhaps he would have said something else, if a large chunk of concrete hadn't landed in front of them. Silverhawk jerked the handles, trying to avoid it, but the Sparrow only spun to it's side as it made contact with the rock.

Both riders and vehicle went spinning through the air, and Silverhawk let out a sharp cry as her leg was slammed into the concrete. She rolled on the ground, dirt and debris raking her face. Groaning as she finally rolled to a stop, she quickly looked to the side to see the all-too-familiar pattern of blackened grass. A blade of green brushed her face as she turned her head, and she jerked back too late.

The crashing thunder of the falling building turned into a deafening roar, and she sat bolt upright, wincing. She could see Uldren staggering to his feet out of the corner of her eye as the building collapsed in earnest, the foundations crumpling and dust blooming out into the air.

"Oh snapple cracks." she said. She looked around frantically for her Sparrow, and spotted it laying a few feet away.

Scrambling up and trying to ignore the pain that sung through her body, and hoping that Uldren wouldn't notice the blackened grass, she rushed over and panickedly tried to flip the vehicle over off of it's back.

"Come on come on come on come on, no no no no!" Uldren joined her, and they had only just managed to flip the Sparrow over when the black cloud engulfed them. The roaring sound was closer than ever, and Silverhawk crossed her arms in front of her face in a vain attempt to shield her head.

A rush of air blew past her from another direction, and she had the sudden, queasy feeling that one sometimes gets in an elevator, or while preforming a Blink Strike; like her organs were having trouble keeping up with her body. Suddenly, the terrain under her feet changed, and so did it's speed, knocking her on her back with a yelp, Uldren making a similar sound beside her.

She opened her eyes to find herself staring at the familiar ceiling of the Wibbly-Wobbly, and to hear the crash of her Sparrow materializing beside her. She sat upright. She patted her shoulders, chest, face, and legs, making sure everything was still intact. She spent a little extra time on her hat, and pulled her cloak around for batter inspection. Confident that she was, indeed, alive, and undamaged, she raised her fists in the air.

"EXCELSIOR! VICTORY IS OURS!" she cried victoriously. "WE ARE IMMORTAL!"

"Shut up!" Uldren snapped from where he sat off to her side.

"Well excuuuuuuuuuse me, princess! You're in no position to be giving _me_ the atomic glare; you're the one who ran off! We thought _you_ were dead! We were sure _you_ were dead! We were certainly absolutely certain that _we_ were dead, once Petra got here." She scolded, fists on her hips.

"Petra? What's she doing here?" the Prince asked immediately, ignoring that fact that she was very, very cross with him. _The nerve!_ Puffing up with indignantly, she picked up a glove that had fallen from its compartment in the ship, and slapped him across the face with it.

"OI!" she shouted as she did so. "I AM VERY CROSS WITH YOU AND I'M NOT MAD OFTEN BUT I'VE HAD A VERY STRESSFUL PAST TWENTY FOUR HOURS MOSTLY BEACAUSE WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD AND MARTIN'S BEEN ALL DEPRESSED ABOUT IT SO THAT MADE _ME_ ALL DEPRESSED ABOUT IT AND CERTECH ARE A BUNCH OF JERKS AND I'M GLAD YOUR OKAY AND NEVER DO THAT AGAIN OR I'LL USE A TITAN'S GLOVE NEXT TIME!"

He continued gawking at her as she took a deep breath, preparing to continue.

The ship pitched, and they were both thrown onto their backs again. Silverhawk hissed through her teeth as the metal grated floor smarted against her spine. _Stupid!_ Alarms blared in the air, and she scrambled to her feet, gasping as sharp pains shot up her leg.

"Houston, we have a problem! An ugly, smelly, four-armed problem." Westley announced from the ammo pouch. She staggered to the cockpit as more blows rocked the ship, and ended up throwing herself into the seat…backwards.

She scorpioned over the back of the seat as a particularly violent blow made the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ give a massive heave, landing her half in her seat with her legs waving out wildly behind her.

"Snapple cracks!" she shouted. She stretched out her arms, trying to get at the controls. "Stupid short arms! Why can't I just grow a couple of inches for once!?"

Her fingers, with great struggle, managed to wrap around the controls, and she pulled up. This action also pulled her body down, and she slid into the seat with a strained grunt. _Not the best of flight positions!_

"Silverhawk, you're in the seat the wrong way!" Westley exclaimed.

"Yeah, I noticed, Westley!" she grunted, twisting her neck to get a better angle on the radar. She reached out and grabbed the other joystick.

"Hold on to something! Preferably your lunch!" she yelled, hoping that Uldren would take her word for it. _My back...is_ not _going to thank me later for this._ She jerked the controls, pulling her ship into a displacement role attack pattern before pulling up into what she had planned to be a wingover. This turned out to be a bad idea.

Silverhawk slid backwards out of the seat until her feet were hanging freely, as she gripped the controls to keep herself at the front of the cockpit.

"Could you be any more careful?" Uldren's voice called up sarcastically.

"No." she shouted back. She could feel the ship going into a dangerously slow loop. She kicked out, trying to get herself in the seat. She felt her ghost bump against one of her legs in an effort to help. Her foot planted down on the back of her seat, and she pulled the other one up. With a small jump, she hooked her knees over the edge of her seat.

"Finally!" she signed with relief. She adjusted her grip on the controls. _Time to get out of this bad loop before it come through._ She looped into the top of the wingover, diving, and then evened the ship out halfway down to their original altitude. She could see mountains flying past below them. She heard someone hit the floor with a grunt somewhere in the back.

More gunfire shook the ship.

"Okay, that's it kids; play time's over." she hit the backwards thrusters. Almost immediately, the Fallen scoutships overshot her, and she was well within their planes. Silverhawk punched her thumbs down on the fire buttons and two of the ships were torn up by the _Wibbly-Wobbly's_ guns. The third went down, one side aflame as it was caught in excess fire while attempting a break maneuver.

"Yeeeee-haaaa! Fish in a barrel, suckers!" she cried victoriously."Westley, how are our shields?"

"Tip-top shape, Captain." he told her in a scottish accent.

"Good work, Scotty; I told you you calibrated them right!" she said, grinning."How's our favorite passenger?"

"My head hurts." came the grumpy response. She took her eyes off the dark sky ahead to turn in her seat and look at him. He was sitting on the floor, hair looking...well wonderful in a sarcastic sense of the words, and rubbing his head, glaring at her.

"Yeah, I don't think you're going to get those dreadlocks out, mate." she told him in her best british accent. "Scissors are in the back."

"I swear, Silverhawk, if you-" he froze as she pulled out a mirror from the bag beside her seat, looking horrified.

"Get snipping, Bear Grylls. Something might decide to make a nest up there." she tossed the mirror to him and quickly turned away to hide her laughter, burying her face in her hands. She heard the Awoken stomp off, presumably to find a place to hide while he gave himself the emergency hair cut.

 **"Heather, are you okay down there? Please, don't play any jokes or yell into the comms or anything."** martin's worried voice came from her ghost.

"Space tastes like raspberries." she replied, grinning. She turned her ship around back the way they had come. "And you might have incoming, so keep an eye out. The _Wibbly-Wobbly_ arrived just in time, and Uldren's okay. Well, mostly okay; physically, he's fine, but his hair is a loss."

 **"What was he doing up there? Where did he go? How did we lose him? Did he get lost?"** her friend bombarded her at ninety mile per hour.

"Whoa, whoa, settle down; the guy just fell about a thousand feet or so, lived through an aerial combat situation with _me_ as the pilot, in all my ace genius, and now he has to cut half his hair off." she listed with a chuckle. "Look, I'll ask him about it when he gets back, but I was dead serious about those incoming. Fallen scoutships, which means a skiff can't be far behind. And where there's a skiff-"

 **"There's a Ketch."** he finished for her.

"See if you can ring Petra up; tell her the plan worked, and that we found Uldren. Don't forget to mention he's _alive_ , by the way. You know, just so she doesn't, shoot us out of the sky, or something." she added.

 **"Roger that, Houston."** she could picture him giving a tiny solute as the comms went dead again.

She leaned back in the pilot seat, cushioning her head with her hands as the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ flew back towards the Certech valley. _What a day. Certech, Uldren, monsters, and Fallen, oh my!_ She flexed her injured leg, wincing.

"Westley, damage report." she asked, lifting her leg for the little robot to scan. He let out a ghost equivalent of a _tsk_ noise as he scanned it.

"Several minute fractures, and your ankle is dislocated." he told her. He scanned the rest of her body. "You're going to be fairly bruised later as well, it seems like."

"Well, then, I guess there's nothing to it. Which way should I pull?" she asked, grabbing her foot firmly and finally noticing the awkward angle it was at. "And I thought dislocations hurt more than this."

"To the left. And your body is still in shock; the real pain should star fairly soon." he told her as she gave her foot a sharp tug. There was a loud, disconcerting _snap_ , and pain shot up her leg.

"Snapple cracks!" she shouted before snapping her jaw shut, hoping that Uldren wouldn't come to investigate. She pushed herself to her feet, more pain shooting up her leg as she did so. "Keep her on course, Westley."

"As you wish!" he said cheerily, the triangles above his eye parting slightly and going up and down in a mock solute. "Remember, pain killer is on the left."

"Thanks, West." she said, limping around the seat and out of the cockpit.

Her Sparrow lay on it's side against the back wall, and she reminded herself to secure it later, and have Martin fix whatever was broken. She limped down to her room, which was off to her right. Though, it was much less of a room, and more of a small bed build into a wall that happened to be behind a door. Sincerely hoping that Uldren hadn't chosen this room to cut his hair off in, she opened the door and went inside.

Everything was as she had left it. Well, kind of; there were a few more things on the floor than usual, and her extra armor had slid out from under the bed. A few of her cloaks were on the floor, and her pillows and blankets lay among them. She sighed. _As if there wasn't enough to do already._ Picking up her bed things, she tossed them onto the bed before shoving her armor back under it. She reached under the left side, and her hands found the med case.

Pulling it out, she unhooked the clasps and pulled out the micro-splint. Lifting herself up onto her bed, she stuck her leg out, and began to remove her armor. _Boots first, knees next, unhook the sheath, and up you go._ That was the mantra that Cayde had drilled into all their heads during Hunter training. In order to get "down to business" with weapons and the like, the students all first had to learn how to equip and un-equip their gear properly.

She rolled the leather of her pants up, revealing the bruises that were already starting to form across her leg. She sucked in air between her teeth. _Mamma mia..._

She reached down into the left compartment of the med case and pulled out the pain killer. She looked at the label. _Okay, no idea what that is, I won't even try to pronounce it._ All she could tell was that it was the right one; she might not know the word, but she could recognize it fairly well. Turning her leg to get a better angle on it, she brought the needle up to her skin. _Just do it quick; like a band-aid._

She jabbed the needle into her skin and shut her eyes tight as she pushed the injector down. She whimpered and hissed through her teeth. She felt the injector stop, and she pulled the needle out of her leg, and tossed it down into the med case.

"Snapple cracks!" she hissed. She clapped a hand to the bleeding needle mark, trying not to think about the point sliding in and out of her skin, slowly, smoothly, sliding against her muscles as is went in and went out...

 _Oh, no, oh, no! I think I'm gonna be sick! No, no, not on my ship, not while I have company!_ She clapped one hand over her mouth, and the other over her stomach. _Think about puppies, think about puppies, think about puppies! Adorable, furry little puppies, with those big, cute eyes and their little noses, those cute little ears and the way they kind of stumble around the place because their paws are too big for them..._

She steadied her breathing, and the throbbing pain in her leg gradually faded. She took the micro-splint and wrapped it around her leg. There was a click, and a beep, and it automatically adjusted itself to her legs' shape. She rolled her pants back down, and put her boot, sheath, and knee armor back on.

She stood up, and stomped her foot several times, testing her leg. Echoes of pain ran up her body, but other than that, her step was completely solid. She closed the med case and pushed it back under her bed, and hung her cloaks back up on the wall.

She left her room, closing the door silently behind her, and made her way back up to the cockpit. Looking around, she saw that Uldren had returned, and was sitting near the other hall, looking absolutely thunderous. His didn't look all that bad, actually; personally, she though he looked quite better with his hair short.

"Oh my gosh!" she gasped dramatically. "Uldren; you're bald!"

"If you speak one word of this to _anyone_ , I will throw you out the nearest airlock." He snarled, gold eyes searing into hers. _I wonder what he would think, if he could see_ my _eyes?_

 _Probably that I'm a freak._

"Dude, it's your face; everyone's going to see it eventually." She shrugged, rolling her eyes, though he couldn't see it. "So really, the only solution to nobody knowing about your hair, is to wear a paper bag over your head until it grows back. But then, people might think it's not your hair; they might think it's your whole FACE that got ugly. Not that you're ugly, or anything. I mean, at least it's not a dreg cut; now THAT is ugly."

Everything she said seemed to make him glare harder and hate more. But what _did_ he hate so much? Was it in his nature, or something?

"I suggest you stop speaking." He said, a sneer playing across his face.

"Oh, yes. And I forgot to mention, it's time for _you_ to _start_ speaking. As in, about what the heck happened to you? I mean, daring rescues are blazing and all, but I'd like to know why I jumped off a building? I mean, I do crazy things like that all the time, but usually I know why I'm doing it."

"Why would you jump off a building for no reason?"

"The key word there was 'crazy'. And you didn't answer my question. Where were you, and what happened, and why didn't you try to find us?"

"I _was_. That's why I was there."

" _Annnnnnd_? Why didn't you come back to camp after the battle?"

"I was being chased. I killed a vandal in the forest, and then an animal came. I climbed up and ran from it in the trees."

"Then?"

"I wasn't going to risk going back. I questioned the vandal before I killed him, and he told me where the lab was. So I went there. I figured you would have the same Idea."

"So, the vandal tore up your cloak?"

"He snuck up on me."

"And your sleeve?"

"I cut it off so I could bind the wound."

"The monster? Wouldn't happen to be big, right? Brown? No eyes, big nose, smells like something died? Giant teeth, claws the size of jumpships? Slobbers a lot?"

"How did you know?"

"Met him."

They sat in silence, Uldren glaring up at her. His story made sense…but there was something he wasn't saying. Something he was keeping from her. There was a hesitance in his voice. Something she didn't trust.

"O-kay." She said, un-crossing her arms. "If that's what you're going with. Be nice to know what really happened, though."

"What do you mean? He snapped, looking surprised.

"You're not that good a liar. Whatever it is, just don't go off doing it again." She stretched, popping her back. "Cuz we've got a ketch to raid."

* * *

 **Wha-what is this?*brushes dust off of reveiw link*Could it be?**

 ***clutches heart* I-it is!**

 **A REVIEW!**

 ***faints***

 **Owen Atticus: Thank you so much! And I totally agree with you; I got tired of waiting, though, so I wrote my own. And I don't know if it's your review that did it or not, but people seem to have taken a very sudden interest in my fic since yesterday. And about your block with fantasy writing; I suggest for practice, writing from a dragon point of veiw. It's not that different from Warriors, and it really helped me adjust into fantasy writing really well. People is the next step up I took; practice makes perfect!**

 **By the way guys, I'm only posting this because of the sudden interest taken in this fic. Last chapter, I said that this chapter was going to be 8,000 long. Buuuuuut...it turned out to be 10,000. 10,800 words long, exactly. Soooooooo...yeah. Hope you liked it. And I hope you're all just a bit more interested in Silverhawk now. Something's messed up with her, there's no telling what. (BTW Owen, don't mention the thing I mentioned in my review, about Silverhawk's you-know-what. I actually regret putting that in a review, come to think of it. Man, I n gotta speedwrite this and get that part of the fic out before my review becomes world-known spoilers.)**

 **To anyone who got curios and looked up my review; Silverhawk is not, and never will be, a Mary Sue. I think the broken leg proved that.**

 **You know, I looked up actual aerial fighter maneuvers for this chapter. You know that "barrel role" from Star fox? That's not an actual barrel role; it's an Aileron Roll, and it serves no combat purposes whatsoever, except maybe in the "play dead" trick we saw Garret and Coulson do in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If you're confused by any of the maneuvers in this chapter, just look up "Basic fighter movements" on wikipidia; that where I got my info. It's actually some very interesting stuff; almost makes me wish I wasn't an accrophobe, and that my glasses weren't part of my identity.**

 **Plus, poor bald Uldren! He isn't actually bald; but I heavily considering it, and an accident with an incendiary device though, because...well, if everybody came out of this fic with their eyebrows intact it wouldn't be a Destiny comedy, would it, then. I just kind of wanted Uldren to have a different design for later than what he has in the games. I gots a bad case of OCD, and his hair always bothered me.**

 **Just as a sneak peak; re-imagined Uldren looks like a mid-evil space pirate, LoL.**

 **Next time: We return to Uldren's point of view*collective groan of the readers*, so we get some more Silverhawk-bashing, we raid a ketch, and Martin's dark side make another appearance...**

 **PLEASE REVEIW!**

 **Cheers!^^**


	8. The Ketch

**When karma was a jerk...**

 ** _"Okay, so that was how the idiots ruined my hair-"_**

 **"Uldren, who are you talking to?"**

 ** _"Nobody, sister; I'm finishing my report of the...incident, last month."_**

 **"I would think you would have finished that a month ago."**

 ** _"I was going to. But it was a very busy time after then; I only remembered because idiot number two was here for the Eye."_**

 **"His name was Martin."**

 ** _"Martin is a fool."_**

 **"How did he retreive the Eye, then?"**

 ** _"Because idiot number one did all the work for him. Can I finish my report now?"_**

 **"Make sure you get your complaint finished before morning; and try to dial back the sound effects. Even Queens need their sleep, and I don't want to wake up to loud, screeching noises every ten seconds."**

 _ **"Mara! Everyone who sees this is going to hear that! I can't delete that!"**_

 **"Good. Sleep well, brother."**

 ** _"Ugh." *Bangs head on desk*_**

 ** _"Alright, now, as I was saying..."_**

"Let me get this straight; you put my sister's emissary up to this _without_ my knowledge?"

 **"To be fair, we thought you were dead. That and, well, we forgot."** Silverhawk said as they flew over the mountains. Uldren was back in his own ship, the _Nighthawk_ , having been transmatted off the _Wibbly-Wobbly_. He'd thought he would die if he had had to listen to that danged "Noma Noma" song one more time... At least now he only heard it whenever Silverhawk turned her comms on to talk to him. She'd lent him an earpiece when he had said his comms system had been damaged somehow.

The two Guardians had obligingly caught him up on everything that had happened since his "death"; including the fact that Silverhawk and Petra had initiated a plan without him knowing, and that, apparently, they had found the location of a potential cure. All the catching up offered a less-than-welcome-but-better-than-his-other-focus distraction from the fact that Silverhawk had just saved his life, and called his bluff on the story he had told regarding his "death"...

...And ruined his hair. When Mara got well enough to poke fun at him, he was never going to hear the end of it. His hair was now all short, though the once-longer side looked lopsided and stuck out messily. He would have to even it out once the mission was over.

 **"We were _going_ to tell you, but I had no idea she had started the plan until after we thought you were dead. We didn't even know it would work, anyway."** Martin added.

 **"Well, we must have done something right; the Ketch is just ten minutes from here by flight, if we choose to be stealthy. Of course, we could also be totally obvious, charge right in there, and blast them to pieces before they know what hit them."** Silverhawk suggested excitedly.

 **"Hhmmm. I was thinking more along the lines of a combination of those two."** Martin said nervously.

"How about you two idiots quit planning and tell me how exactly you thought this was a good idea?" he demanded.

 **"Well, I came across Petra by chance on my way back in from Earth."** Silverhawk began cheerily. **"So I thought I'd relay my idea to her; you know, about drawing out the Ketch by threatening Mars. And then she said it would work even better if we made them think we knew where the Ketch was as well, so that it would move, and then she sent some of her people over to Mars to make it look like an attack, and she said she'd send out a false order to attack the Ketch. So, here we are, attacking the Ketch for real."**

 _ **"The worst part? Admitting that it was a good plan."**_

Uldren sighed. He couldn't believe he was about to say this.

"As much as I hate to admit it, that plan is so conceited that it might actually work. Good job, Silverhawk." the words felt like they were being ripped out of his throat, and he resisted the urge to vomit in disgust at himself.

 **"'Tis a Hunter's duty to be clever."** came her voice solemnly.

 **"And full of herself."** Martin added hastily. Uldren rolled his eyes. At least he could turn his comms off now so that he didn't have to listen to them.

"Alright, here's the plan; I'll get as close as I can without being seen, Silverhawk will distract the evacuating Fallen, while Martin stands by to extract us. I'll slip in and out of the Ketch, find where they're storing the disease, take a sample, plant a bomb, and get out. Once we're at a safe distance, I'll detonate it, and then we head for those coordinates you found after we drop the sample off with Petra." he ordered. If there was one thing he like most about his duty as the leader of the Crows, it was giving orders, planning things. Deciding when and where and how something would happen, what things would be like after they happened; order and control at it's finest.

 **"Hmmm, interesting. But I have a better idea, almost the same as yours."** Silverhawk told him skeptically. **"You see, I don't really go head long into a death trap unless I know I'm on the ground with someone I know has my back; usually, myself, but if things go south, well...no offense, but I don't really know you that well. I have no idea if you'll run off again, or if you'll run headfirst into a suicide situation. I have no idea if you'll preform anything like how Martin does, and we've got a routine; a good one. One that could be very important in this little raid of ours. Any plan we come up with has have both of us on the ground."**

 **"Does it, really? I wouldn't mind staying up here, you know."** Martin insisted nervously.

"And why should I give allowances to you two nit-wits? The last time I saw you both fight, you nearly got me killed." he snapped. There was no way he was going to let Silverhawk take charge, especially after being saved by her. His pride was already wounded, he didn't need the Guardians questioning his skills any more than they already probably were; he needed to re-assert his dominance over this mission, he needed to make sure he didn't seem weak.

 **"Because, grumpy-face; we do crazy things like this on a regular basis."** she declared brightly. **"We are veterans of obscure, on-the-fly plans. Which is good, because the Ketch is right down there."**

"WHAT!?" _She lied about the ETA! And they haven't agreed to my plan yet!_ His heart sank to his gut as he registered what she had been implying.

"No." he said firmly."No, no, no, no, no! Were are not 'winging it'! Do you hear me? I repeat, we are not-"

 **"Booo-yah! Lets go kick some big ugly butt!"** Silverhawk whooped, her bright red and electric blue Regulus swooping down to where the Fallen were boarding the Ketch, rushing about and loading what supplies they could.

 **"Or we could just ignore Martin and improvise anyway. I'm cool with that."** the Warlock sighed as his own, dark blue Javelin shot down after her.

"I can't believe you idiots!" Uldren yelled into the comms.

 **"You'd better start believing! We're all about believing!"** the ship swooped low to the ground, and he saw a flash as she transmatted directly into the crowd of extremely surprised Fallen. "Hit it, Westley!"

 _Immigration Song_ blared on over the comms as Silverhawk yelled out a battle cry. "Heloooooooooo butt-faces!"

Uldren let out a groan, banging his head against the controls. _I can't believe this. I swear, if I get out of this alive, I am NEVER dealing with Guardians again, no matter what the steaks are._ With a sigh, he pressed his ship down towards the ground. Explosions scattered the area as Martin fired at the Fallen who were going after Silverhawk, who was...nowhere to be seen.

 _What? Where did she go?_ Slowing his ship slightly, he scanned the area. She couldn't have just disappeared, could she? And then he saw it; a blur of sparking blue, darting through the Fallen, faster than lightning, enemies dropping in its wake like flies as it made it's way closer and closer to the Ketch. _Hm. Must be a Hunter thing or something._

He came down to the ground, landing on several Fallen, and trasmated out. He took his hand cannon out the moment the fresh air hit his face, shooting several dregs in quick succession without missing a beat. Martin's Javelin flew low, and the Warlock materialized beside him, the sack that held his machine gun slung over his shoulder. Other than that, he appeared to be unarmed.

"Where are your weapons? You can't go on that machine gun alone." he asked as he reloaded. The skittish-looking Warlock slid his bag onto the ground. His robes were torn in places now, there were a few scrapes on his face, primarily the underside of his left jaw. He thought he could see blood around the edges of the torn left side of his torso, and the corresponding sleeve was rolled up to reveal a bandage wrapped around his arm. His every movement was accented by a wince or flinch.

"Yes I can. I'm a Warlock. There are other ways to fight besides with a gun." he informed, flinching as Uldren emptied his mag again, each bullet a kill shot. He cast a glare at him. Whatever he's blubbering about, he's going to get us both killed if he doesn't do something soon. Their initial surprise finally starting to wear off, the Fallen were starting to arm and organize themselves. It was only a matter of time before they rushed the two of them en-masse and overwhelmed them.

 **"Hey, Martin. You gonna do that space magic thing?"** Silverhawk's voice inquired over the comms.

"It's _not_ space magic; it's manipulation of background radioactive elements to form a- you know what, where are you?" Martin asked his pocket; or rather, where Wheatly was hiding once more. Uldren threw a grenade at a group of vandals, sending them all flying.

 **"Oh, I'm on the Ketch. It was way easy getting on here, like too easy. Scary easy, if you want to put it like that. Anyway, Westley think's he's found where they're keeping the disease, we're heading there now."** she replied.

"Careful; if you touch that stuff, you catch the disease." Martin cautioned.

 **"Yeah, yeah; I know. Besides, dude, I think the disease is airborne."** she wrote him off casually. **"Let's face it; we're all going to catch this thing, no matter how this turns out."**

"Wow. You really know how to make me feel better."

 **"Hehe, good luck getting to sleep tonight."**

"Would you two stop socializing? I'm doing all the work here!" Uldren snapped, throwing another grenade and stepping to the side just in time to avoid the fire from a wire rifle.

"Oh! Sorry!" Martin squeaked with a jump. I'll get right on it!"

He looked out at the Fallen that were gathering, eyes searching; for what, Uldren couldn't guess. He just kept shooting at anything that had a gun, reloading as fast as his hands could go. He glanced to his side again, to see Martin holding one hand out with a painfully concentrated expression on his face. He gave it no thought. If the Warlock was doing something weird, then so be it. If he was wasting time and getting them killed, then he would personally use his dying breath to shoot him in the head.

Then a flash of blackish-purple appeared at the edge of his vision. Martin was still deep in concentration, and an orb of writhing, sparking, purple energy had formed in the palm of his outstretched hand. Yet, that didn't seem to be it's true color; inside, multi-colored light floated and swirled and sparked mesmerizingly, and he had to tear his eyes away from it with great difficulty. Even as he looked at it, it was growing bigger. He heard the Fallen shouts increase in volume, and he turned back to the battle at hand just in time to shoot a wire rifle-armed vandal in the face as it took aim at Martin.

As the shouts increased, he could discern a few words from the gibbering clamor.

"...Guardian...kill it! Kill it! Kill Guardian! KILL!"

Whatever Martin was doing, it certainly had them riled up.

"YES!" Uldren nearly jumped at the Warlock's triumphant exclamation. He was staring at the ball of energy in his hand with a look of absolute glee on his face."I DID IT! AND I DIDN'T EVEN BLOW UP!"

"Blow up!? BLOW UP!? WHAT THE SATURN DO YOU MEAN 'BLOW UP'!?"Uldren exclaimed, horrified. _What if that hing blows up in our faces or something!?_

"Well, usually whenever I try to use my light powers, things go horribly wrong and I end up without my eyebrows." He explained happily, the ball growing about twice the size of his head now.

"And just _how_ are you going to get rid of it?" he glared at him. A sting shot through his leg, and he turned to shoot at the Fallen that had caused the damage.

"YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME!?" Martin yelled suddenly. He stood in a battle stance, bristling, the ball in his hand. Putting his other hand on it, he pulled it apart, holding the energy maniacally."COME AND GET SOME YOU OVER-GROWN COCKROACHES!"

He ran at them, and they stopped suddenly, shocked by his sudden change in behavior. And then they started to run. Uldren put his hand cannon in it's holster, deciding to save it for later, and took his scout rifle off his back, loading it. He stopped dead when he looked up to see Martin throwing the balls of energy at the retreating Fallen. The energy cut through them before exploding, decimating them, many of them disintegrating with a flash of purple light that let of sparks of other colors as well.

"YEAH! WHO'S YOUR DADDY, NOW, SQUIDBRAINS!?" Martin roared triumphantly, throwing both fists in the air. Uldren lowered his gun, realizing that the young Warlock had utterly destroyed all of their enemies. _Huh. I guess he can be useful after all._

Then boots pounded on metal, and several squads of vandals tore out of the Ketch and down the ramp. Martin yelped and ran back the way he came, arms outstretched, as they began to open fire on him, screaming girlishly. _Or not._

"Uldren shoot them!" Martin yelled as he passed the awoken, skidding as he turned to duck behind the _Nighthawk_ 's landing gear.

"What did you think I was going to do with this thing?" he called back, bringing the gun up to his shoulder and taking aim. He shot four vandals in the head with one bullet each, downing them before they could finish re-loading their weapons. More vandals poured out of the Ketch, captains on their heels. He emptied the rest of the mag, killing five more vandals and wounding another, before he ran back to join Martin behind the landing gear of his ship.

Uldren wasn't the leader of the Crows for no reason. He wasn't just their leader because he was the Prince; no, he was their leader because he was the best. He could make shots with a hand cannon that could be deemed impossible by most, and had probably spent more time "in the field" than any member of the royal family since it's establishment. To the Crows who specialized in information about the Last City, he was often compared to the Hunters. To the newer requites, he was the guy who walked in on their first lesson, shot ten needles off their pedestals in the space of six seconds, and then walked out as if nothing had happened while they stood there drooling.

But even he couldn't take on this many Fallen. As he leant out of cover to shoot several more vandals down, he saw that the Fallen just kept pouring out of the Ketch at an impossible pace. At this rate they would be dead in the next few minutes, unless Martin did his explod-y thing again.

"Whatever you just did, it would come in real handy right now!" he said as he re-loaded again. Martin opened his mouth, only to jump back with a yelp as a bullet grazed the metal next to him.

"I'm trying! I almost had it just now!" he yelled back. The Warlock closed his eyes as before, palm outstretched with a pained expression on his face.

Uldren was about to duck out of cover again when five shots rang through the air with the familiar sound of a hand cannon firing. Nine more shots followed it, impossibly fast, and he came out of cover just in time to see a grenade go off in the middle of the crowd of Fallen. He looked to the entrance of the Ketch, at the beginning of the ramp, and saw Silverhawk standing there in a throwing position. He spotted fourteen Fallen laying dead on the ramp, their heads blown off completely by the close-range attack, and he also saw several bodies finish their flights through the air as an arc finished discharging.

Silverhawk holstered one of her hand cannons, and unsheathed her blades, twirling them as she did so, as the Fallen turned towards her. He saw Westley dart back into her hood, and he could still hear the music it was playing, even from here. The giant bazooka strapped to her back made her look even smaller against the sea of enemies, even though many of them had been blown up.

"Sooo..." she yelled for all of them to hear. "You lot know how to dance?"

She twirled her blades again.

The nearest captain let out a roaring snarl, waving it's arm in a signal to attack. The Fallen surged forwards, vandals unsheathing their swords. Uldren, for some reason, felt his insides lurch. Silverhawk twirled her blades again.

"Heather!" Martin screamed beside him.

"Guess not." she shrugged, and he could barely hear her words over the tide of snarls. "But it's dance time anyway! Crank it up, Westley!"

The music restarted, and she jerked her hands down, flicking her blades. Electricity surged up her body, and the launched herself forwards with impossible speed. The Fallen shrieked as she cut through them, some of them disintegrating with crackles of blue light, others falling to the ground with scorched blade marks across their bodies, twitching.

 _What._

He had seen her doing something weird like this from above, but it was still unbelievable to see it up close. No matter how much the Fallen shot or swung their blades in her direction, the Hunter was untouchable. Fallen shot Fallen as a result, taking each other out, or stabbing one another by accident as what seemed to be lightning itself tore through their ranks.

 ** _"Now, up until this point, I had never actually seen a Guardian use their Light Powers. So, of course, I was a_ tiny _bit impressed. Now, If you inquire as to my jealousy, I can honestly say; I had none."_**

 _I wish I could do that._ Oh, the things he could do if he could move the way Silverhawk was now! She zigged and zagged, twirled and launched herself off of rocks, somersaulted over her enemies as she stabbed them in the face. She spun and cut with fluid, graceful movements with inhuman speed and agility; it almost looked like she was dancing.

Of course, it would be cooler to blow things up like Martin could; he loved precision, but when it came down to it, explosions never failed.

 _Ughhh, what am I thinking!?_ he resisted the urge to vomit at his thoughts.

Suddenly, Silverhawk was directly in front of him, grinning broadly with electricity sparking off the ends of her blades before dissipating. He jumped back, and she let out a cackle. He glared at her.

"Do you mind?" he asked rudely.

"No." she answered simply.

"Why didn't you follow the plan!?" he demanded."We could've got killed down here!"

"Buuuuut you didn't. And we rarely work with a plan. Mostly because plans never really go the way we want them to whenever we make one." she shrugged, and cast her Warlock friend a grin."Hey, Martin!"

"Maybe they never work because you never follow them! Ever think about _that_?" Uldren snapped. Martin crossed his arms and shouted at the Hunter.

"What were you thinking, charging a horde of Fallen like that!? You could've got killed!" he reprimanded. Silverhawk, though they couldn't see it, rolled her eyes.

"But I didn't. You know I'm not afraid of death; what's he gonna do? Kill me?" she said, hefting one of her blades over her should.

"Excuse me? Are either of you idiots listening to me?" Uldren demanded, gripping his gun harder as his temper rose. Martin ignored him, still looking at Silverhawk, and opened his mouth, perhaps to reprimand her some more, when a snarl from the Ketch interrupted him. All heads snapped in that direction to see even more Fallen pouring out across the ramp, survivors from Silverhawk's attack rallying around them.

Silverhawk grinned at Martin, nodding her head in the direction of his bag.

"Doom and boom?" she asked, smirking. Martin let out a sigh, and then smiled back at her wickedly.

"Doom and boom." he confirmed. Uldren looked between the two of them dumbfounded, as Martin rushed out and snatched his bag up before the Fallen bullets could get to him. _I can't believe how utterly stupid they are!_

"Excuse me, idiots," he snapped, as Silverhawk heaved her bazooka off of her back," but in case you haven't noticed, there is a _whole House_ charging us right now!"

She hefted her bazooka; it was dark blue and black, like her armor, and the words Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick were written on the side with strips of bright yellow tape. The business end of it seemed to be too big, and she unclasped two straps on the side of the bulge.

"Martin?" she asked, or rather, ordered. The Warlock hastily took three mini-rockets out of his bag, and loaded the bazooka with nerve-wracked speed before picking up his own ridiculous weapon, unfolding it and prepping it. Infuriated, Uldren stomped forwards and began to shoot the approaching Fallen.

 _If those fools want to take their sweet time with weapons they can barely handle, then so be it! He was not going to die like this! Waiting for the idiots to work up some sort of miracle._

"Thanks for the cover, Uldren, but now it's time to duck!" Silverhawk's voice called. He turned to see her and Martin standing with their weapons prepped. She grinned at him. "Trust me on this."

She pulled a lever on the end of the bazooka back towards her, and the bulging front separated into three different barrels. He gawked, and she puled the lever back and forwards three times, and then cocked the rocket launcher, the sight flicking out of the side. Martin cocked the Deathening. "Yeah. What she said. And I only agree to this stuff because I owe her a life debt."

Uldren just stared at them, the level of stupidity and randomness and shockingly impressive moments these two had finally reaching a point where his brain seemed to be considering giving up and shutting down just to preserve his sanity. Or, whatever was left of it, rather.

The two Guardians grinned at each other with a nod, and then rushed forwards with a battle cry. Uldren whirled around as they passed, watching in disbelief as they yelled. They came to a halt a few meters beyond him. Martin raised the Deathening.

"Doom-" he cried.

"-and boom!" Silverhawk finished, putting her eye to the sight of Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick. Martin open fired, yelling, cutting down the Fallen like they were nothing, and Silverhawk pulled the trigger on Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick, sending the three rockets screeching through the air directly to the entrance to the Ketch. She lowered the Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick. The bullet fire from the Fallen landed around them, and Martin ran back with a yelp, while Silverhawk just stood, and stepped to the side to avoid one of the spinning bullets.

The rockets shot through the entrance to the Ketch, and moments later, a magnificent explosion ripped through the air and engulfed the ship. Uldren jumped back as the shockwave hit him, knocking him off his feet. Threw his arms over his face to shield his eyes from the searing blast.

"You idiot! You're going to get us all killed!" he held her arms out, as if to embrace the flames.

"Behold!" she proclaimed."My masterpiece is born!"

The Ketch exploded with renewed enthusiasm.

"BURN, BABY, BURN! WHOOOOOO!" she screamed ecstatically. "West, are you getting this?"

"Yes!" yelled the scared reply as her ghost peaked out over her shoulder.

"Then you know what to do! YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" She spun around away from Westley, cheering, and faced him before doing a vehement air guitar.

 _Why do I even bother!?_

* * *

 _Meanwhile, back at the Tower..._

Cayde had never been so stressed out in his entire life. Zavala was down, Ikora's condition was worsening, and the Speaker was starting to show the early symptoms of the disease.

Which had left him as the highest authority.

But right now, he was taking a break; or rather the closest thing he got to one these days. Visiting his fellow Vanguard in the infirmary had become his daily five minutes of relative peace, though peaceful was the last word he would use to describe the infirmary at this point. Terra-27 and every other doctor(healthy or otherwise) were pushing themselves to the breaking point, trying to keep over half the Guardian population from dying. And that wasn't even the worst of it; down below, in the City, it was even worse.

"Hey, Ikora; nice hair." he welcomed as he came up to the area that the more important patients occupied. The Warlock Vanguard moaned a weak protest, but did little else. He turned to Zavala, opening his mouth, but the Titan spoke first, in a worryingly rasping voice.

"If you even _attempt_ to make another bald joke..." The exo made a pouty face at him, and then glanced over at the Speaker, who was sitting on a bed nearby, awaiting a verdict on his condition. It was weird seeing him with his mask off; who would've guessed that the Speaker was _bald_?

"What's the condition of the fireteam that was sent out?" he inquired. He swung his feet restlessly, shifting his position almost constantly, and sweat glistened on his shiny, bald head. Cayde just couldn't stop looking at the thing; it was just so _blank_! _Maybe this is why he wears the mask._

"Silverhawk dropped by here two days ago to grab Ol' Reliable. I haven't heard from either of them since." he told him. The Speaker raised an eyebrow.

"'Ol' Reliable'?" he questioned.

"Her favorite gun." the exo clarified. He'd held the hand cannon in his hands before; it was remarkable how Silverhawk had somehow managed to resurrect the broken gun, after it had been crushed during the Ridge incident. Immediately, his coded mind locked away the thoughts. It was almost instinct with him, an unspoken rule, to not even think about, let alone talk about, anything having to do with the past of Heather Chancellor. It was shocking enough as it was to look at Silverhawk, know what had happened, and wonder how such a person could possibly still retain that kind of personality.

"Whatever." the Speaker shook his head. For a second, Cayde wondered if he had heard him right; had the Speaker just said "whatever"? "Try to make contact; make sure that the Prince is still sane. We all know what those two can be like."

"Cayde, I'm getting a transmission. It's blasting out on all channels, from Venus!" Cayde's ghost, Skank, announced suddenly. The exo stiffened(well, stiffened more; he was an exo). _Venus._ _That's where Silverhawk went._ Was she in trouble?

 _Well_ that's _a stupid question; she's always in trouble._ He answered himself haughtily. "Put it through." he told his ghost worriedly. The white robot hovered out in front of him.

"It's a picture of some sort." he said, whirring. "From a Guardian's ghost! I'm getting the image."

He projected the picture out in front of him, and it almost brought a tear to Cayde's eye. If exos could cry, anyway.

"It's beautiful." he said, wiping a non-exsistant tear off his cheek. It was a picture of Silverhawk doing an air guitar with an insane look on her face, a brilliant explosion erupting directly behind her.

"Oh, brother." Zavala rasped, shaking his head. The Speaker let out a sigh.

"I suppose I was right to fear for Prince Uldren's sanity." he commented. Cayde stepped back a couple of paces, picturing a frame for the picture. Everyone, sick and healthy, rolled their eyes.

"I'ma hang this on my wall. You just don't find art like this anymore."

* * *

 _Meanwhile, in orbit of Venus..._

"...And then she jumped off a building, mag-pulled her Sparrow out of the eightieth floor, got Uldren, and then nearly got him killed _again_." Petra finished in one breath. She'd been _beyond_ furious upon being told that Prince Uldren was dead. And she was still furious. So, for the past hour, she'd vented this fury by gracing Variks with a large cast of insults towards the two Guardians between explanations on what had happened.

So far, the Fallen had exhibited impressive patience. She had no idea why she'd signaled him, of all people; she _hardly_ trusted him, they'd been introduced hastily shortly before the Queen had taken ill.

"The Prince is unharmed, yes?" he questioned. Annnnnd this was the part where she had to control herself. According to Silverhawk... Uldren was bald now.

"He's..."she couldn't stop the giggles from coming out of her."He's...uh. Oh my gosh!"

The Fallen let out a rattling sigh as she burst into full on laughter. His head shot up to the screen again as she burst, "He's bald!"

"What?" alarms suddenly blared on the screen. Petra immediately sobered.

"Urgent message, on all channels. It looks like it's from Silverhawk's ghost." she informed."Some kind of image...what the heck?"

On both their screens, an image appeared; Silverhawk, doing an air guitar with and explosions behind her, and looking like she had gone utterly off the deep end.

"IS THE PRINCE DOWN THERE WITH HER!?" the awoken screamed furiously after a few seconds, making Variks jump. She pressed several buttons angrily, and then yelled into the comms:

"YOU RECKLESS (she said a word in Fallen that made Variks cringe) ARE GOING TO GET ULDREN KILLED! QUIT SENDING US DUMB PICTURES AND GET OUT OF THERE OR SO HELP ME I'LL BLOW YOU SKY HIGH MYSELF!"

Variks saw her storm off screen, and back on her ship, Petra Venj was screaming into a pillow.

* * *

 **Okay, so we got some more hilarity with this one. This one and the next were originally supposed to be one big chapter, but I decided that cutting it off at Petra's temper tantrum was better for comedic purposes. This one was really just some pure slapstick, and to display some of Silverhawk's skills. She's what they call a "Career" Bladedancer. Yes, that' it, I've figured out how the subclasses will work in a realistic environment. Basically, the Guardian just had to focus very deeply on the type of light energy they want to use.**

 **Different types of energy come easier to different classes of Guardians. Void energy, while easiest to acces for Warlocks(with the exception of Martin, who just thinks about it too much before he actually gets to the "blowing things to smithereens part"), it's hard for the Hunters to gain an understanding of the void. While Hunters are naturals at Solar energy, it's difficult for the Titans to harness pure flame.**

 **Now, the Careers(don't say "Hunger Games" in your reviews, PLEASE I'm begging you not to) are more adept in their light manipulation of the subclass they are identified with. A competent Hunter might be able to infuse a grenade with void energy, but be unable to draw up a bow. Now, a Career Nightstalker would be someone like Tevis(except not dead); they're good at using Solar and Arc energy, but for them, the Void is where it's at, and they've got mad bow skillz.**

 **Silverhawk is a perfect example of a Career Bladedancer. But if she wanted to say, "switch" into a Nightstalker, it would take her a while, because she'd have to "meditate" on the qualities of the Void after being attuned to Arc energy for so long.**

 **I was going to have a point int he next book where Martin explained this all to Petra, but I decided that what with everything that actually happens in the next adventure, the explanation would come a little late in the series. I'm only telling you all this stuff now because it might come it in this next chapter.**

 **WHO LIKED THE EXPLOSIONS?! I know I sure did; I've been dying to write the giant explosion scene for a long time. I didn't know I'd be blowing up a Ketch until last week. You know, I'm gonna make it a promise to blow something up in ever single fic I write. Yes, that includes the Hobbit ones. Hmmmmm; what can I blow up in the Hobbit that nobody will miss?**

 **What do you want to see me blow up in the incredibly near future of this fic? What should I blow up in the Hobbit?**

 **And I'd just like to say, now that you all know where this fic takes place in the timeline, Silverhawk and Martin did NOT defeat Crota or help Rasputin in this; at the time Uldren is recording this, the Black Garden is the biggest thing they've ever done(or, will do). Now, the Guardians who DID defeat Crota were going to show up here eventually, but I decided to save them for later; the only reason they aren't out there instead of Silverhawk, is because they've got their hands full right now, which you'll see in the next chapter.**

 **And they're going be veteran Guardians, because lets face it; you can't be a guardian for a month and then defeat Crota just like that.**

 **Next time: Silverhawk's dark past makes itself known, and the local wildlife is the least of their concerns...it's really the plants they should be worried about.**

 **Cheers!^^**


	9. She Is Death

**When death hid within life...**

 ** _"It wasn't the first explosion I had ever run from, I'll have you know. But it wasn't at all as fun as I remember it being. Probably because of Silverhawk."_**

They were running when Petra's transmission came in. Uldren almost tripped and fell on his face when he heard the Fallen swear she yelled, but Silverhawk was too busy laughing her butt off to even notice the message. She was laughing so hard, she kept stumbling as they fled the growing explosion.

Silverhawk had planted explosives on the Ketch on her way out, and with ech one that went off, the explosion of flame and metal continued, forcing them to leave the _Nighthawk_ behind, likely to be blow up or crushed. _She owes me a ship, that stupid, irresponsible-_ a new thought cut him off.

He lunged forwards and grabbed her arm, forcing her back.

"Did you get the disease!?" he demanded. There was nothing more important! If she had desposed of the Ketch without grabbing a sample, and they failed to locate the "official" cure, then that sample would be his sister's only chance for survival."Or were you so out of control, you blew that up, too?"

"Well excuuuuuse me, princess!" she huffed indignantly. "I'll have you know I have an excelent amount of control when it comes to blowing things up!"

A large chuink of metal landed right where she had been running moments before, punctuating her sentance. She turned to look at it almost casually.

"What the?" another chunk of metal landed nearby, and the both looked up, gulping. Debrise was raining from the sky, flames trailing after it.

"I know you don't like improvised plans much but, uhh...WIIIIIIIIIING IIIIIIIT!" Silverhawk screamed, bolting for the jungles below, where Martin could be seen frantically waving his arms about as he ran like a chicken with it's head cut off.

Uldren took off after her, diving and zigging and zagging as debrise fell all around them, mentally screaming every curse word he knew of in every language he knew.

 ** _"Now, I won't give you all the details about what happened when we got into the jungle, so I'll just sum it up for you."_**

When they finally made it to the tree line, panting and gasping, Martin let out his girlish scream, pointing to a spot just above them. Uldren looked up to see a massive chunk of the Ketch falling down towards them.

"Get deeper into the forest!" he yelled, shoving Silverhawk in front of him. She grabbed Martin by the back of his robes as she lurched forwards, dragging the Warlock after her with a yelp. Uldren followed them, the two Guardians agonizingly slow, the danger seeming slow as well, yet fast and impending at the same time. It was like time itself had gone mad.

 ** _"We got to the tree line, but the debris pushed us further in..."_**

Martin yelped and protested as branches hit his head and legs, and as Silverhawk dragged him over a low log. Uldren resisted the urge to scream, to make his voice heard one last time before it was silenced. Perhaps that was why people screamed before they died violent deaths?

Suddenly, they burst out into a clearing, all three of them tripping on a cluster of vines and falling to the ground. A loud, booming _crash_ came from behind, and they all covered their heads, coughing as dust was thrown up into the air. For how long they had lain there, utterly silent and waiting to see if the forest would collapse on them, he didn't know; but eventually, Martin spoke up, voice squeaky and terrified.

"Is it safe to look now?" he whispered. Slowly, they all lifted their heads and twisted to look behind them.

 ** _"We managed to avoid getting crushed somehow..."_**

"I think so." Silverhawk said in a "matter-of-fact" tone of voice. She jumped to her feet nimbly, and brushed the dirt off her shoulders.

"Well, as far as improvised plans go, that was a fair win, I'd say!" Silverhawk chirped. She slid the _Deathening_ off of her shoulder, dropping it in front of Martin, and she re-adjusted the straps on the _Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick_ , which she had hastily strapped to her back after doing her air guitar photo.

"'A fair win'?" Uldren exclaimed furiously. "You nearly got us all killed! If this is really how you two normally operate, then I fail to see how exactly you're both alive by this point!"

"Well, technically speaking, I've already died once, so that renders your sight redundant either way." Silverhawk said cheekily. Something in Uldren's brain went _click_ at her words, and remembered immediately their meeting at Variks' tent.

"I thought you said you were raised together?" he accused. It couldn't be both, could it? It was too small a possibility that they could have both been brought back as Guardians, if they had known each other before dying...

"We w-" she broke off, frowning. He raised an eyebrow at her suspicious, an then she jumped backwards with a yelp, tripping and falling on her back with a huff. Looking down to see what she had tripped over, he saw vines-dark green, speckled with yellow-wrapping themselves around her legs. he felt something brush his foot, and at the same time, Martin screamed again.

He tried to stomp down on the vine, but it only snapped up his leg faster, like a snake striking, and he lost his balance. Another vine coiled around his other foot in mid-air, his shoulder smarting as he hit the ground with a thump. Vines were coiling up Martin's arms and legs, and even wrapping them around his torso. Uldren felt more of the plants do the same thing to him. he opened his mouth, to say or do what, he would never know, because that's when one of the vines wrapped itself over his mouth like a gag.

The two ghosts floated around panickedly, Westley yammering on about trying to contact Petra, though he seemed to be in too much of a state to actually say anything.

"I wish I had thumbs!" Wheatly exclaimed in his usual monotone, flying around the Warlock's head in terrified circles.

 ** _"But then we had an encounter with the local plant life."_**

Suddenly, the vines wrapping around Silverhawk shrivled, blackened. The black spread along their lengths, al the way to wherever they may have come from, and the Huntress broke free, pulling the dead vines off of her, and throwing one of her gloves to the ground. She pulled the other one off hastily, and then began to pull at the vines around Martin's torso; well, much less pulling than she was touching. She gave the vines on his neck a careful tap, and then rushed over to Uldren just as he felt more plants wrap around his neck before constricting tightly.

He wasn't sure which was more shocking or worrying- the vines around his neck, or the fact that the ones on Martin started shriveling the moment Silverhawk touched them. She grabbed hold of the vines somewhere beyond his vision, and he felt the ones around his neck grow stiff, and ripped his arms free of more blackened vines to rip them away. Almost immediately, Silverhawk jumped back, holding up her hands as if they were covered in some sort of burning poison. For he knew they very well could be.

 ** _"It wasn't anything we couldn't handle, though."_**

Uldren stumbled to his feet, gasping, Martin looking up at the Huntress with a mix of worry and relief on his face. Silverhawk's expression was as unreadable as it ever was, her glasses and hat hiding her face from all that looked on it. Under normal circumstances, Uldren would probably be celebrating that he had come out of that one alive; but he was far from grateful. He was actually _afraid_. What was it that his girl could do?

"You have ten seconds to explain what the *********(it was that word in Fallen again, he deemed it quite appropriate for this situation) that was, or I swear I _will_ shoot you without a second thought." he demanded, still catching his breath.

Silverhawk looked down at the ground lowering her hands and muttering something he didn't catch.

"What?" he pressed. She looked up at him frustratedly, ripping her glasses off. If the past three days hadn't been weird, he would have described this revealing action to be "shell-shocking" as least, and "impossible" at the most.

"I'm a mutt, okay!" she said, looking at him hopelessly. Her face was all human, like one would expect. But her eyes...they were unmistakably the eyes of an awoken, glowing sky blue and seeming to pierce the air itself as she looked at him. He gawked at her.

 _She's half awoken!? But that's impossible!_ Humans and awoken were similar in many ways; but a bipedal physical appearance was where the similarities ended. Genetically, a hybrid was impossible. But here was one now, standing in front of him; an impossible girl with impossible eyes, and an impossible skill that she STILL HAD YET TO EXPLAIN. He put one hand on his hand cannon. When next she spoke, it was softly, the quietest he had ever heard her.

"I'm a mutt, and Certech thought I was perfect, alright. They thought I was perfect, so they did...things to me. Things that make me like this; that make me kill whatever I touch." she looked down at her hands again, and then back at him pleadingly. "You can't tell anyone! I wasn't lying when I said there are Certech scientist in the Tower as Guardians. If they were to figure out I was alive, they'd...well, you don't want to know, but it wouldn't be a happy ending!"

"And why shouldn't I tell anyone?" he spat. "You're some kind of... _monster_. A _thing_. Why should I oblige to anything you ask me to do?"

"Because that " _thing_ ", just saved you life. Twice." Martin said pointedly, from where he had picked himself up out of the dirt to stand behind Silverhawk. "You owe her."

 ** _"Silverhawk managed to re-focus on Solar energy before things got too out of hand..."_**

"I know, our ghosts know; even the Vanguard and the Speaker know, and they've never had anything against her being a Guardian. It's just the other Guardians who can't know." he explained shakily. "Certech were the ones who killed Heather, during the Collapse. You owe her enough to keep her secret."

"I can speak for myself, Martin." Silverhawk told her friend quietly.

"But I'm right, aren't I? _Aren't I_?" he enforced vehemently. "He owes you twice. Isn't that enough to pay for a secret? Wouldn't it be dishonorable, if he told people, when he owes you?"

Uldren glared at them. He hated that they were right; he hated even more that he couldn't shoot Silverhawk here and now. But Martin had struck at his pride; his _honor_. After this idiotic "plan" had gone out of control, it was clear to him now that he had no power over these two nit-wits. If he didn't have power, than his honor was all he had. And if he told people, and then those more honor-bound people found out he had owed Silverhawk, he wouldn't have that honor; with these two, or with any other Guardian.

It would tear relations between the Last City and the Reef to the point of war. War for the technology that both civilizations agreed to let the other study, war for the places and information that both the Crows and the Guardians went to and gathered, and, quite possibly; war, over which side would get to have the human weapon known as Silverhawk. Or was it, half-human?

"Fine." he spat. He glared at them furiously, and took his hand off his gun. "But if I _ever_ see your faces at the Reef again after this, I _will_ shoot on sight."

"Seems a bit rude, doesn't it?" Martin dared. He ducked a little further behind Silverhawk(which was almost comical, considering he towered over her) as Uldren sneered at him nastily.

"No." he turned around and started back into the forest." We will no longer be allies. I'm sure I could come up with a viable excuse for putting a bullet in your head."

 ** _"...and it was over in seconds."_**

He barely heard what Silverhawk said next; to be honest, he couldn't-and wouldn't-care less. He whacked a large leaf out of his way, but kept looking at the ground, searching for more of the deadly vines that seemed to have a mind of their own. Vaguely the thought came to him, that if more vine did attack, Silverhawk could just touch them and they could continue on their merry way. Then the thought came to him, that if she had touched him during her "rescue" back in the clearing, he would be as dead and shriveled as those vines.

He stopped dead in his tracks, the full gravity of what he had just agreed to finally hitting him. _I chose to keep a killer a secret._ What if she was secretly a mass-murderer? With all that cheer and charm to cover it up, it would make for a perfect mask for which to hide the murderer with. What if all this idiocy, all this foolishness, all this "life-debt" stuff, was just to keep him quite so that they could keep killing?

 _Then why haven't they killed me yet?_ The answer came to him almost immediately; Silverhawk had known he had been lying to her when he had told his story, about why he had split away from them? Perhaps she and Martin thought this meant he knew something? Something they could use? Something about Certech, perhaps? If they were the ones who gave Silverhawk her "deathtouch", perhaps the two of them were looking for a way to boost her power somehow? To make her even more unstoppable.

 _If they think I know something, I have to keep them thinking that way; at least until I can get a secure line to Petra._ He had made a deal with death itself. And death was alive. How did one go about fighting living death? _Because that's what she is._ He thought, fear shuttering down his spine. _She is death_.

 ** _"They shriveled and burned before the fire."_**

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

 **300 years previously...**

A little girl ran through the wire fence gate, and out into the night-lit forest. Ten minutes ago, she had been sitting in her cell, thinking about her family again, and then the door had opened. And for the first time, nobody came through it. But words had appeared on the holographic pad next to the door. Three words: Follow the River.

And then the lights outside the door had started to flicker. At first, she could hardly believe it. Were the lights beckoning _to_ her? If they were, was it to death, or to freedom? She would be content with either one. Or was the electrical systems just glitching out, like they always did when the Fallen passed overhead?

The lights had flickered again, and slowly, she had risen, and made her way over to the door. The guards lay on the floor, their earpieces sparking. The lights up above her had flickered once more, and then the lights at the end of the hall had flickered. She looked back at the holo-pad, and the words had flashed across it once more; "Follow the River." But that time, those words had been followed by two more words, ones she hadn't heard in almost five years; "Heather Chancellor."

The twelve-year-old had followed the flickering light, passing unconscious guards all along the way, their earpieces sizzling. The excitement within her, the hope that burned inside her for the first time in years; it was almost too much to bear. She wanted to scream to the world that she was almost free, that soon she would taste wind on her lips and fill her head with birdsong, that she would drown herself in moonlight and bask in the glory of the rising sun.

That she would finally grieve her brother and parents, without the Certech guards snapping at her or hitting her and yelling at her to be quite. She would shed tears again, like she did silently every day and every night; but these would be free tears, and she would be silent no longer. She would scream and weep and sob and wail to the stars themselves, and there was nobody that could possibly stop her.

She had come to a large room, following the river of flickering lights, with two large doors at one end of it. The lights above the doors flickered, and then the keypad gave a beep.

And then the doors had opened.

And she had seen moonlight billowing over darkness, scented the wilderness beyond the wire gates, heard the whispering of the wind through the forest. The chill of winter bit into her skin, her thin, stark-white blouse and capris offering little protection against the freezing cold. The painfully undersized sandals on her feet dug into her skin now, as she rushed past the gate, which had opened itself in the same way the doors of the main entrance had.

She gasped for breath as she ran, bordering on sobbing or laughing the glee of freedom to the sky. Her stark-white hair, a result of the pain rooms she was pushed into frequently, glowed eerily in the moonlight, flowing out behind her messily. She ran and ran and ran, as far away from the Certech place as possible.

She came upon a clearing, with a frozen-over river just beyond it, and she collapsed to her knees, exhausted and overwhelmed by the outside world. So exhausted was she, kneeling and gasping for air, that she failed to notice the figure in the shadows behind her, knife flashing in the moonlight. His fellow guardsmen had fallen all around him, but he had been quick to take his earpiece off when he realized it was the source of the problem for his fellows.

And now, it was only him left, to kill death itself before it could reach the outside world. The trail of blackened plant life had been easy enough to follow, and even now, he could see the withered fronds of frost-battling ferns just beneath the girl, the green leaves never completing their campaign against the winter ice. He swiftly rushed up behind her, and pushed the knife into her back.

She let out a strangled scream, and he pulled it out, and reached around, plunging it into her stomach. She screamed more, and began to thrash, her bare, deadly arms flailing. Over and over, he pulled the blade in and out, until she lay there, barley breathing, blood pooling around her, staining her clothes red, scarlet trailing from her mouth.

It was nothing but pain, pain pain, like the pain rooms but worse; with the pain rooms, it was like something was crawling inside of her through her skin itself, and then the agony would fade after a piercing pain in her arm. But this was never-ending agony, and she was so weak, she couldn't even muster up a scream anymore.

She thought she could hear a voice now; soft, yet strong...like Nate's. Was her big brother here? Was he coming to save her again? She tried to speak, to call out his name, but all she could produce was a strangled wimper.

Her murderer picked her up by the ankle and dragged her to the frozen river. With a heave, he flung her body out onto the ice, which shattered immediately, sending her plunging into the shockingly ice depths. The agony faded alongside the sting of the water, and she was engulfed by blackness. Her body settled onto the riverbed.

The river dried up. The river shrunk. Winter turned to darkness. The bones faded with the weather. A ghost would one day find them by chance, the victim of an ancient crime.

But all she knew as she died, was one thing;

She was free.

* * *

 **"D" is for "depressing". Okay, so for those of you who skipped the gory part, the point after Uldren finds out Silverhawk's secret is a flashback to the night Silverhawk was murdered. Lets get some sympathy for our favorite Hunter, alright?**

 **Basically, "The River" hacked the facility she was being kept in, and led her to freedom, only for a guard(the only one who hadn't been knocked out) to find her out in the woods bordering the facility. He kills her, and throws her in a frozen river to dispose of the body.**

 **For those of you who think this power is really OP, Silverhawk never uses it. And she most certainly** ** _not_** **invincible(broken leg, got murdered...she** ** _is_** **killable). For those of you who read the gory part and want to know what the pain room was, it was basically, in my head, the room they injected her with radiation in. I won't say more than that; it could be an explainable I want to save for a later story about her.**

 **But yeah; Silverhawk's half awoken, just about impossible, and she kills everything she touches.**

 **Basically, she's Peril from Wings of Fire, except technically Peril wasn't half Rainwing because of Darkstalker's scroll, she's genetically possible but should've been killed, and she burns everything she touches to a scorching, blazing crisp. And she's not as cheerful without that mind-control necklace of Chameleon's on. For those of you not familiar with Wings of Fire...just pretend this paragraph doesn't exist.**

 **But she was inspired by Peril, and a little by Rogue, from X-Men; but mostly Peril. I haven't done anything X-Men related in quite a while.**

 **Anyway, depending on whether or not I got my AoS obsession in full swing by the time this is posted, I might not be updating for a while; I'm thinking it's time I started working on A Tale of Grandeur for a little while, but mostly I've been itching to write something for All The Strange, Strange Creatures; a Star Trek: Deep Space Nine crossover with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., if anyone wants to know. A Tale of Grandeur is one of my Wings of Fire fics,** ** _all_** **about my fav Rainwing Queen(other than Glory, of course).**

 **But, I've also been offered by Amberstar of Thunderclan to help her re-write a few chapters of** ** _her_** **Star trek fic,** ** _Siblings_** **. She's overhauling a few of the early chapters, polishing and re-writing some others, and she needs a little help with that to get it done, because bout half of part one of her fic got deleted somehow.**

 **And you guys know what the worst part about the new Destiny update was? Amberstar broke my Xbox. She's already repaid me in full(with ice cream, and the permission to post some of the death one-shots I made for her characters*laughs evilly*), but I have to wait until Sunday until I can play again. The damage is fixable, but I'm too busy to make time for it until Saturday(by busy, I mean "writing fanfiction and wasting time")**

 **Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant: You sir, speak my language. And thank you for that** ** _marvelously_** **insidious idea; I actually think that Silverhawk** ** _dreams_** **about blowing up a Cabal warship*drools*. And I blame auto-correct for most of those typos; I once published a chapter where it had the word "cheese cracker" instead of "lip-smackingly(delicious)". And I feel the EXACT. SAME. WAY. About STUPID Fanfic mobile! Sometimes all I have is a 3DS to my name, and I'm desperately overdo for an update, and all I can do is WISH that I could access doc manager and write a little! Fanfic Mobile is as much of a jerk as Uldren; convenient for some things(like shooting stuff) but terrible at everything else(IE, social contact, entertainment factor, self-esteem booster, cheerleader, etc.). *Sniffs* I want to write, but all I can do is stare a my favorites list and hope one updates.**

 **And THANK YOU for leaving a review! *bows sloppily***

 **My inspiration levels are replenishing already! By the way, does anyone know exactly how long ago the Battle of Twilight Gap was, as of the beginning of the game? I kind of threw half the lore out the window because I was unsatisfied with it, but Twilight Gap's exact placement on the destiny timeline would be very helpful to know. I kind of get a feel of vaguely how long ago it happened(somewhere between ten to twenty years)because we know Zavala was just an itsy-bitsy little noobie Guardian around that time, but seeing as everyone appears to be ageless(Cayde, I get; he's a robot, there's no telling how old he is)...well, you see my dilemma.**

 **I've thrown that ageless-ness thing out the window as well; just because human lifespan tripled back then, that doesn't mean it's still like that now. In fact, between the darkness and every other un-foreseeable factor involved with the apocalypse, combined with the fact that they're half in the Dark Ages(the medieval one), I'm pretty sure the average human lifespan is shorter than it used to be at this point.**

 **Next time: Another spaceship fight, Uldren gets bit by a cat, someone develops a crush, and *dung, dung*Dawn of the third day: Twenty-Four Hours Remaining. How will Petra react when she learns that Uldren's baldness was a lie?**

 **Cheers!^^**


	10. Peppermint

**When time itself was the enemy...**

Uldren kept to himself for the next few hours, leading the way through the forest, the sounds of the roaring flames from the explosion growing more and more distant behind them. They needed a clearing wide enough for a ship to land in; neither Guardian had a transmat beacon with them anymore, as Martin's extra one had broken during the mad rush to escape the debris.

He could hear the two Guardians whispering to each other nervously some distance behind him, and neither one of them had spoken to him since Silverhawk's revelation. He was glade for that. He wasn't sure if he was actually capable of saying anything to them at this point. He didn't even know what he would say if he opened his mouth right now.

Probably something along the lines of, "Are you a homicidal maniac?", or, "Are you just keeping me alive so you have a bargaining chip if you need one?"

Or he'd say something stupid, like "Traitor!", or something really cliché, like that. He whacked another large leaf out of his way, and jerked his leg out of the grasp of a small pile of brambles. His elbow hit the branch of a nearby tree painfully, and he swore under his breath. The past hour and a half had been spent like this; dragging himself through the rainforest and trying to wrap his head around the Silverhawk situation.

It didn't help that his hair was gone, that his cloak was gone, that his dignity was completely and utterly thrown out the window, _and_ that the wire weave bits of his armor were stiff and scratchy from when he had washed the Fallen blood off, and that everything he was wearing had carried a faint, fishy stench to it ever since. Not to mention, he hadn't slept in about three days. And it was raining. And he could barely see three inches in front of himself.

And his arm still hurt. He had treated it while on board the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ , but now it had started to throb again, and he could feel the bandage, now moist with blood, rubbing uncomfortably against the skin around the wound with every move he made.

Basically, everything was horrible.

 _The sooner we get off Venus, the better._ The two ghosts hung back with their Guardians, their lights barely illuminating Uldren's path. He was tempted just to build a torch of some kind, but everything in this stupid forest was so wet, he doubted he would even get a spark off any of the branches that kept hitting him in the head.

Suddenly, one of the lights became brighter, and he turned his head to see one of the ghosts zoom up next to him; Silverhawk's, obviously, seeing as Martin's was perched on the Warlock's shoulders like an insecure parrot.

"I'm getting readings of a clearing just up ahead; it could be big enough for the _Timey-Wimey_ to land in." he informed, directing the beam of light coming from his eye in the general direction that Uldren had chosen to go in.

"Good." He said curtly, before Westley floated off back to his Hunter. He risked a glance back at her. She had put her glasses back on, he noticed, as Westley's eye light glinted off the black glass, and her face was just as unreadable as ever. Though it did sport a frown, unlike usual, which brought a shiver of satisfaction running through him.

He turned back towards his intended destination, spotting a gap in the trees that could be the beginning of the clearing. _Finally! No more_ plants _!_ If he ever had to see another _plant_ again, it would be too soon. He pushed forwards with renewed enthusiasm, for the first time ignoring the wet splashes that the leaves dumped onto him constantly.

 _I have_ got _to get out of here! I'm so close…_ he was managing the best run that he could now, the undergrowth trying to trip him, and the mud sucking at his boots.

"Uldren! Wait!" he heard Silverhawk call behind him. A blast of anger swept through him at the sound of her voice, and he clenched his jaw, ignoring her. _I don't need to listen to the words of a liar and a killer. I can't trust_ anything _she says._

"Uldren!" it was Martin this time. He ignored him, too, pushing several vines out of the way after checking their coloration. The ghost light grew brighter again, and Westley flew up, around, and right in front of Uldren's face. He swiped at the tiny robot, the bright flashing light of his eye blinding him.

"Watch it!" he snapped. The orb dodged his swing deftly, his eye light dimming somewhat. Whether it had been his intention to blind Uldren or not, it had definitely succeeded in getting him to stop.

"There's a small fleet of Fallen Skiffs heading directly for us. Wheatley has already contacted the _Timey-Wimey_ , but we can't risk being seen ourselves until it gets here. I've contacted Petra, she's climbing down through the atmosphere as we speak, but as soon as we're on the _Timey-Wimey_ , as Silverhawk put it, all nachos is going to break loose." The blue and white ghost told him seriously.

"What? How small a fleet?" Uldren asked, worry digging into his stomach. One ship wasn't enough to fight off one Skiff. Sure, the Skiff itself could easily be destroyed by competent weaponry, but that Skiff probably had three Scoutships on it ready for deployment. In a four-to-one situation, the odds of surviving by engaging were slim.

"There's three Skiffs, five extra Scoutships behind them." The Ghost answered dejectedly.

 _Gee, I sure wish I had my ship!_ He thought wryly, almost saying it out loud, until he considered that jocularity at a time like this would get them no-where. He shuddered inwardly at even having considered speaking. _These wackjobs are actually starting to get to me! Disgusting!_

"How far out is Petra?" He asked, frowning. He could hear Silverhawk and Martin trudging up behind him. There was a loud squelching sound, and Martin let out a disgusted "EEEWW!"

"Five minutes. And the _Timey-Wimey_ is here." Westley told him solemnly, as the sound of a ship's engines filled the air close by. The trees and undergrowth a short distance away waved wildly as the ship stirred up a wind, and he almost couldn't hear Silverhawk over the noise.

"West, how long until the Wibbly-Wobbly can meet us?" she yelled. He jumped realizing that she was directly next to him. She was holding her fedora steady on her head, and strands of her hair whipped around her face, brown and dirty, though(although it could have been a trick of the light) there seemed to be white glinting at the tips.

He almost physically squirmed at being this close to her. Her gloves were on again, but she could just as easily head-butt him and be done with it. He looked at her nervously. _How many people have you killed? How many times have you touched? What did it feel like, to drain them of life just by touching them?_

"Just a minute or two; if we drive out to meet it, even less." Westley shouted back at her, floating back over to hide in the hood of her cloak. A stray vine whipped across her face, and she flinched as black began to crawl up it.

"Don't just stand there!" Uldren yelled at them, rushing forwards as fast as the jungle would allow. "Move it!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Martin whined from where he was dis-lodging about half his leg from a deep mud patch. Uldren turned around again, swiping plant life out of his way as he went, the fierce wind caused by the ship feeling strange where his hair had once grown longer. He felt practically bald now.

He didn't bother looking back to see if the Guardians were still behind him; he didn't care, and he felt a surge of relief as he burst out into the open, rain lashing at him, to see the _Timey-Wimey_ hovering low to the ground. He turned just in time to see Silverhawk and Martin come out after him, Martin covered up to his knees in mud and various jungle litter, Silverhawk looking no less better. Several large leaves turned black, the whole plants starting to wither, as they brushed her face upon exiting. His insides squirmed again.

The _Timey-Wimey_ lowered to the ground completely just as the familiar sounds of Fallen Skiffs entered the air, and all three of them ran for the ship as the ramp lowered. Fear shot through him as the sounds grew closer, and he thought he could hear main guns firing through the air.

As they approached the ramp, something small and white came slinking down it from the inside. Martin let out a panicked yelp, and powered forwards with a speed he had not thought the Warlock capable of.

"Peppermint, no! Get back in! _Bad_ Peppermint! Very _bad_ Peppermint!" he yelled, seemingly at the white shape.

He scooped it up in his arms as he ran up the ramp, and Uldren punched the ramp button on the side console as he entered. Silverhawk jumped up onto the ascending ramp, rolling as she hit the floor before scrambling to her feet, boots slipping and streaking mud all over the floor.

She got to her feet, and then dashed madly up to where he assumed the cockpit to be. Martin gave a start from where he was bouncing the white shape in his arms, scolding it hushedly, and yelled after her in a panicked voice.

"Heather, what are you doing? This is _my_ ship; I'm driving!" he protested, running after her. Exasperated, Uldren went up with him. _What game are the idiots playing_ now _?_

"Yeah, and you're a terrible driver! That was the second Sparrow this month that you trashed!" Silverhawk called back as Uldren came up to the cockpit.

"That wasn't _my_ fault; it was that stupid saber-monkey-lizard thing!" the Warlock protested, still bouncing the creature in his arms. _What is that thing?_ It looked like a mound of white fur with ears attached to it. Uldren tipped his head trying to get a better look at it.

He gave a small jump as the creature turned its head to look at him with piercing, slitted green eyes. It was a cat. It's thin, white tail lashed languidly as it dangled over one of Martin's arms, its triangular ears were tipped back flat against its skull, and it glared at Uldren looking for all the world that the Prince had personally offended her.

It was unsettling to say the least, but he put the cat out of his mind as the ship gave a massive jerk. He lurched forwards, as did Martin, and "Peppermint" jumped out of his arms and onto the floor with a hiss. Claws slid out of her toes, and she padded swiftly towards Uldren. He backed up, not wanting to engage with the creature. _I don't have time to be doing kitty day-care duty!_

To his immense relief, the feline completely ignored him, and instead jumped up into a crook in the wall, some kind of shelve, near his elbow. It sat there, glowering, and it suddenly hit him that this cat perfectly personified how he had been feeling ever since this mission had begun.

"You don't know how to fly her as well as I do!" Martin whined, arguing with his friend.

"You've had this ship a week, Martin; the last time you said that, _Timey-Wimey_ the second ended up as a smoking crater in the ground." Silverhawk argued. Uldren gulped. Timey-Wimey _…_ _the_ second _? What happened to the first?_ He had the feeling that he wouldn't want to know.

"That wasn't my fault either!" the Warlock shot back. A warning alarm sounded throughout the ship.

"Hold on to your hats, folks!" Silverhawk shouted. The ship pitched upwards, and Uldren was, for the second time that day, thrown back into the wall. He grabbed hold of the shelf as he fell, and Peppermint let out a yowl. He had little time to register the fuzzy tail caught in his grip before a sharp pain bolted through his hand.

"OOOWW!" he yelled. Peppermint had bitten him! He let go of the shelf, and with it the tail, and he fell back, winded as he was slammed against the wall.

Suddenly, as he was gasping for breath, the ship leveled out, and he recognized the feeling in his gut as they began to speed towards the ground, anything that wasn't secure floating up to the ceiling, himself and Martin included.

"I see the _Wibbly-Wobbly_! Uldren, get up here and take the controls!" Silverhawk's voice yelled.

"What?" he said, still floating, and completely caught off guard by her talking to him.

"I hope you've flown a Javelin before!" she simply replied. The ship jerked into it a stable plane of flight, and both Prince and Warlock hit the ground painfully. Uldren's face landed in a smear of mud from one of their boots, and he wiped it off with a sneer of disgust.

"Uldren!" Silverhawk's voice commanded from the pilot seat. He scrambled to his feet, anger pulsing through him.

"What, you—" he broke off as he got to the seat; Silverhawk was gone. And the _Timey-Wimey_ was drifting lower and lower.

"****!" he exclaimed, lunging forwards and taking the controls, not bothering to strap himself down into the seat. He leveled the Timey-Wimey out, and saw the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ circle around back the way they had come, the man guns firing rapidly.

 **"** **I really do hope you know how to fly that thing, because fighting is the only way we're getting out of here at this point!"** Silverhawk told him through the comms. Martin lunged forwards from behind him and pressed the "talk" button.

"And why should _Uldren_ get to fly _my_ ship! It's _my_ ship!" he stressed angrily.

 **"** **And you're a terrible pilot, old friend. That, and the last time we were outnumbered, you peed yourself. We really don't need that on our list of problems right now."** She told him. For some reason, Uldren had to resist the urge to snicker at that. _What the_ heck _is wrong with me?_

 **"** **Do a break! You've got one on your tail!"** Silverhawk added suddenly.

Spotting the Scoutship on the oddly-placed radar, Uldren broke, and the ship's fire missed by what was probably a hair. He saw another ship directly in front of them, and he fired, driving straight through the cloud of the explosion that followed. Martin screamed.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?! YOU'RE BOTH CRAZY!" he exclaimed, gripping his hair as if he might rip it out if he had to deal with "crazy" any longer.

 **"** **Crazy people** ** _rule_** **."** Silverhawk stated simply over the comms.

"Do _not_ start that again." Uldren warned. He was too angry, too concentrated with this battle to remember to give her the silent treatment.

 **"** **Just say'n."** she said, and he could picture her shrugging. The Skiffs came into view through the cloud cover. He thought the word in Fallen that Petra had screamed earlier.

 _We…are going to die._ Silverhawk, in a way very reminiscent of her Sparrow charge against the Fallen that Venus morning, was heading directly for the danger, firing everything her ship had at the small fleet. The comms activated, and two loud horn beeps came through it just before Silverhawk completed her fly-by. One Skiff had been split in half before it could un-dock it's Scoutships. Four Scoutships had fallen to the air-to-air missiles of the Wibbly-Wobbly.

Two of the Skiffs were still standing, though, and even as he watched, one of them finished un-docking its three Scoutships. Though Silverhawk's daring charge had greatly reduced their troubles, that still left four Scoutships between the two of them, plus two Skiffs. _Great._

Two of the Scoutships broke off in pursuit of Silverhawk, and the other two, along with _both_ Skiffs, shot towards the _Timey-Wimey_ at an alarming speed. He cursed out loud, and Martin gasped.

He turned the _Timey-Wimey_ around, and began to climb. Perhaps if he could break the atmosphere, it would give him an edge; he had always been better at space combat than atmospheric, and with the strange controls of Martin's Javelin, he would need every advantage he could get. He kept looking to the left to look at his radar, but it was on his right in this ship. The steering was oddly…well, _laggy_ was the only way to describe it.

" **This is Petra to Martin and Silverhawk;** ** _where's Uldren_** **? I'm closing in on your position."** A familiar voice rang through the comms. Uldren punched the "talk" button with enthusiasm. Finally _! Someone who isn't crazy, annoying, or untrustworthy!_ He'd never known the emmisary all that well, even before 'the incident', but she'd proven herself useful so far.

"This is Uldren; my ship got destroyed along with the Ketch." He explained, almost bordering on cheerful…if Martin hadn't _literally_ barged in, leaning forwards as best he could with the ship climbing in altitude.

"Yeah, so he hi-jacked mine. Silverhawk told him to. It's really messed up because, of course _this. Is my._ _ **SHIP**_ _._ " He insisted, shooting Uldren a peeved look. The Prince snorted.

"She said you were a bad pilot; I saw your steering earlier, so naturally, I'm inclined to believe her." He said.

 **"** **You got a lot of them on your tail; get back down here so I can do something about it."** Petra told them, her tone of voice implying that she was rolling her eyes.

"Got it." He responded, checking the radar and spotting the large ship she was in. He went into a flat-turn, and pushed the _Timey-Wimey_ down at lightning speeds. His insides lurched as they sped towards the Fallen ships that had pursued them, diving between two Scoutships and avoiding crashing into them by a hair. Martin let out a long, panicked scream, gibbering about "crazy" again as he floated up towards the ceiling, gripping the pilot chair, and Uldren could barely hear Peppermint yowling.

They broke through the cloud cover to reveal Petra's large assault ship, roughly half the size of a Ketch. It had a sleek design to it, though faintly reminiscent of a Ketch, and the royal crest was painted onto its side.

"I'm coming your way, Petra. They're right behind me." He said over the comms, pulling up and into a stable line of flight towards the ship.

 **"** **Got 'em."** The one-eyed awoken confirmed. The _Timey-Wimey_ shook as gunfire slammed against the shields.

He had a split second to watch as the turrets on Petra's ship rose out from the top of it, and then he overshot her. Three blips disappeared from his radar, the fourth starting to back away.

"Thanks Petra." He said into the comms, banking back the way he had come.

 **"** **No problem."** She chirped. **"** **Ought to handle that last Skiff, though."**

"I'm on it." He informed, lining up his flight path with that of the retreating Skiffs. Martin stood up shakily beside him, using the pilot seat as a support.

"Can I drive now?" he asked shakily.

"No." he answered flatly, closing in on the Skiff and locking weapons on it. He fired, and it only took a few moments for it to burst into flames.

 **"** **Guys, I'm having some trouble here!"** Silverhawk's voice called from the comms. Uldren could see three ships in the distance, flying all in a row. **"** **I'm sandwiched in a three-way dogfight with these** ** _losers_** **! I can't believe I fell for that; it's the oldest trick in the book!"**

"And exactly what do you want _me_ to do about that?" Uldren aksed irritably. Petra's assualt ship was too slow to reach the trio in time, and there was just about nothing he could do, aside from making it a four-way dogfight. Besides; why should he even help her? She was probably plotting his murder.

 **"Nothing. I'm coming your way, give Martin the controls."** she responded. The middle ship banked suddenly, breaking away from it's dogfight with the one in front of it. Smoke trailed from behind it, making it visible only as a darker blot against the sea of blackness. Squinting, he saw the blot of the damaged, front-most Scoutship turned as well, joining it's fellow in pursuit of the wounded _Wibbly-Wobbly_.

"What? No!" he protested. Martin let out a hissed "Yes!" of satisfaction.

 **"Martin, take the controls!"** her strained voice urged. Martin leaned forwards, making a grab for the control sticks. Uldren held on stubbornly, trying to jerk them away from his grasp, sending the _Timey-Wimey_ tumbling off to the side uncontrollably. As he struggled to regain control of the ship, he though he heard the Warlock shouting the name of his cat. He dismissed the noise as his mind playing tricks on him, and leveled the _Timey-Wimey_ out, Silverhawk fast approaching, steering her smoking ship...directly towards them!

 **"Hold still, will you?"** he voice exclaimed from over the comms. **"Whats going on over there?"**

Uldren was about to move out of her trajectory, when a flash of white at the edge of his vision heralded the arrival of Peppermint in the pilot space. The she-cat, before he could do anything, leaped up onto his lap, and sank her claws into one of his hands.

"OWWW!" he yelled, jumping up, shaking the cat off. Martin lunged forwards, shoving him away from the pilot seat and onto the floor, taking up the controls. Still mrrrrowwwing angrily, Peppermint jumped up into the Warlock's lap. _What the HECK!? Did he just employ his_ cat _to attack me!?_

 **"Get ready; I'm playing dead!"** Silverhawk announced. Uldren pushed himself to his feet unsteadily, clutching his hand; it was the same one that Peppermint had bitten earlier, and he swore, the claw marks already looked infected.

"'Play dead'? What does she mean by that? Get out of the seat! And try to keep that little white _monster_ of yours under control!" Uldren demanded, getting ready to forcefully yank the Warlock out of the seat and stab the cat through the head while he was at it.

Dark rain lashed at the windows, the system locking weapons on the _Wibbly-Wobbly_. The two Scoutships were hot in pursuit behind her, firing, causing the smoking, bright ship to light into flames at one wing.

"It means..." Martin said, breathing deeply, hands stiff on the controls."I better...not...miss!"

On the last word, he fired the _Timey-Wimey_ 's twin missiles. They sped right at Silverhawk, and for one(for some reason, heart-stopping) moment, he thought that the red and blue Regulus would burst into flames. At the last second, the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ did an aileron roll, speeding between the two missiles, with instead made impact with the Scoutships behind her as she flew directly over the _Timey-Wimey_.

Uldren felt like his legs were made of jelly as they passed through the cloud of fire and debris. _That...was stupid._ Was all he could think.

"Boo-yah." Martin said. Quickly regaining himself, he made to grab Martin and re-take control of the _Timey-Wimey_ , but as he gripped the Warlock's shoulders, Peppermint growled softly from where she sat between Martin's arms, slitted green eyes piercing into his very mind. He let go of the Warlock, who cast him a quick glance of "U mad, bro?", before turning back to the task at hand with a haughty smirk on his face.

 **"Nice one, Martin! A perfect execution, just as ever!"** Silverhawk praised in a tone reminiscent of Cayde-6's( _goodness knows, that's probably where she got her attitude from_ ). **"See, Uldren; just because somebody's a bad pilot, and they're too terrible a shot for anything but a machine gun to work for them, that doesn't mean they can't come in handy when it comes to stupid aerial combat maneuvers."**

 **"** ** _Stupid_** **is right!"** Petra exclaimed. Her voice took on a tentatively curios tone to it with her next words, as if she were perfectly aware that her Prince was listening and didn't like it. **"How did you do that, again?"**

 **"Patience, grasshopper; all shall be revealed."** Silverhawk said solemnly as Martin slowly turned the _Timey-Wimey_ around, back towards Petra's ship. **"But first; you got any nachos?"**

Uldren face-palmed, exasperated, and then remembered with a jolt what Silverhawk really was. Jaw set, he resolved to end it; now, before they reached earth, and before it was too late. _I'll tell Petra. And then once we get those coordinates, we lock those traitors up before they can do any damage._

* * *

The _Timey-Wimey_ settled into the docking bay of Petra's assault ship, now known to be the _Cirrus_ , haphazardly, Martin's shaky parking skill worrying at least, _terrifying_ at the most. Uldren had half the mind to think that _this_ was how Silverhawk and Martin had planned to kill him; death by docking accident. The young Warlock muttered fearfully to himself as he set down, the ship pitching and jerking violently.

The Wibbly-Wobbly was parked expertly on a landing pad at the far end of the bay, still smoking, crew workers rushing around it to try and save the engines. He could see Silverhawk running out through the ramp, pushing her insane Sparrow after her.

Martin cut the engines, and the _Timey-Wimey_ landed with a crash that caught Uldren by surprise, sending him to the floor with a thump. _Snap!_ (In actuality, he was thinking something much more rude, but we won't get into that right now) _I think I'm in more danger_ now _than I was during the battle!_

He pushed himself to his feet, glaring at Martin, who had brought Peppermint up to eye level, and was cooing to the she-cat, rubbing noses with her. There was a light sprinkling of awoken blood on one of her paws, and a few flecks of red-purple matted fur around her muzzle. _Little white monster!_

He was starting to think the impossible; that the cat was in on the plan to assassinate him. But he filed that thought away into his subconscious list of "impossibilities that might soon have to be re-examined". After all, wasn't he about to break a deal with a human-awoken hybrid who had the ability to kill whatever-and whomever-she touched?

"Who's a good kitty." Martin was cooing. Peppermint simply glowered at him tolerantly, tail limp. She was likely just disgruntled about being held up by the undersides of her forelegs. "There's gonna be a fishy treat in it for you. Yes there is, _yes there is_!"

 _If I had eaten anything earlier, I might just be throwing up in my mouth right now._

 ** _"This is one of the reasons I don't have a pet."_**

A loud knocking pounded at the underside of the _Timey-Wimey_ , and Martin rose from the seat, adjusting his grip on Peppermint, cradling the white ball of fluff in his arms as she licked the blood off her paw. Uldren cast his meanest glare at the cat, who returned it in full force.

They went around to the ramp bay, and Martin hit the button with one elbow. the ramp descended, revealing an angry but strangely eager-looking Petra Venj, arms crossed and foot tapping with obvious disapproval. Her lips curved in a frown upon seeing Uldren, silgle, peircing blue eye drifing over his head for a few moments, but she strode forwards the moment the ramp hit the ground, and before either man could say anything, she reached around both of their heads and gave them a solid whack.

"Ow!" they exclaimed in unison. Peppermint yielded no reaction, simply looking bored and casting the she-awoken a glance that might have said "He deserved that, thanks." Never, would Uldren have put up with a solder strikeing ehr commanding officer. But he had had a long day, and decided he would think of a suitable punishment later.

"What the heck, Venj!?' Uldren exclaimed, rubbing his head. "I've had enough head trauma for one day!"

"Prince, that was for worrying me; Martin... that was for being the worst damn driver I've seen since I made the mistake of letting Variks pilot _Cirrus_ the first." Uldren gulped, groaning internally. Cirrus _...the first? And who_ knows _how many_ Wibbly-Wobbly _'s there been..._ How many times was he going to board a replacement ship today?

"What happened to _Cirrus_ the first?" Martin asked tentatively, eyes wide. Looking him over, her frown turning into a hard line as she took in his tattered robes, muddy appearance, and pure white feline. At the same time, Martin seemed to see take her in fully. his green eyes lingered on her eye cover for a split second, and his face gradually seemed to turn redder as the conversation continued.

"Variks happened." she said vaguely. Her eyes fell on Peppermint. "Is that...a _cat_?"

Martin shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking down at his pet as if suddenly realizing he had brought her with him, red flushing into his dirty cheeks. His top pocket quivered, and Peppermint looked up at it evilly. His gazed seemed to keep wondering back to her nose for some reason.

"Well-er, I um, yes. Yes, it is. I, uh, she sits on my lap when I pilot. I find it, er, therapeutic." he stuttered. Uldren raised and eyebrow at the Warlock, who was still blushing, not meeting Petra's eyes. _Okay, I_ swear _, if he falls for her, I'm ditching this crazy train, and I'm moving to another nebula._ As he realized the reason for the Warlock's bahavior. He was dangerously close to dry heaving at this point.

It was almost a releif when Silverhawk charged up to them, slamming into Petra in her excitement.

"I GOT TO BLOW UP A SKIFF!" she shouted at them obnoxiously. "AND A COUPLE DOZEN OTHER THINGS! Can we do it again? Please?! I solemnly swear, I'll be a good girl! I said, like never."

For a moment, Uldren froze, afraid that the hybrid might have touched Petra during the collision, but the Queen's emissary simply shoved the fedora-doning Hunter away with a look of irritation exploding across her face. Silverhawk settled for shifting from one foot to the other excited, beaming at Martin. Petra took a deep breath through her nose, as if she was as fed up with Silverhawk as Uldren was-and after only a few minutes of social contact with her. _If she had gone on this mission, Silverhawk would probably be dead by now._

It was not a worrying thought.

"Hold on; you ahnilated a Ketch, and you're going off about a _Skiff_ and a couple of _Scoutships_? What's wrong with you?" Petra exclaimed, her look of irritation turning to one of disbelief.

"Because," Silverhawk answered faithfully, one hand brought up over her heart, "my true dream, the purpose of my existence...is to blow up a Cabal warship."

 _Is to kill everything you touch._ Uldren couldn't help but think as she sighed dreamily, Martin rolling his eyes while Petra simply stared at her, looking skeptical. He frowned at his fellow awoken. _I need to get her away from these two and on her own as soon as possible. She has to know before it's too late._

Silverhawk could probably kill everyone on this ship without breaking a sweat. He had to stop that from happening.

"Oh!" the hybrid exclaimed suddenly, opening a hand cannon ammo canister on her belt. She pulled out a clear, glass vial, filled half way with some sort of liquid." I got the sample. Might want to handle with care."

"Heather!" Martin yelped, all three of them jumping away from her and covering their mouths with their arms. Peppermint let out a surprised hiss as Martin covered his face with her. "Put that thing back!"

Her eyes widened, and she hastily stored the vial away in the ammo canister. "Sorry! I forgot; you're a germaphobe."

"Am not!" Martin brough the cat away from his mouth to protest before putting her back up, his next words ruffled by fur as the creature squimed in his grip."Thafs er dedly diseas in tere! I'n being erfetly easonable!"

Peppermint yowled, and twisted out of his grasp, landing on the floor gracefully. She started towards Uldren, and he jumped back, almost slipping on a patch of mud.

"Oh, no you don't you little mongrel!" he snapped, backing away. Her tailed lashed villainously, as if she were mocking him, before she turned to Petra and Silverhawk.

"Eh, she's a nice kitty. Not too fond of me, though; or Uldren, apparently." Silverhawk shrugged. Petra stiffened as the cat wound itself around her legs purring. Martin stood tensely, watching her with wide eyes. Uldren could almost _hear_ his thoughts begging the cat not to attack.

Relaxing, and much to all their surprise, Petra bent down and picked the cat up.

"Petra." Uldren warned, holding up his injured hand." Be careful; that _thing_ is a monster."

"Nah, she's not a monster. Are you?" she asked of the cat, holding it the same way martin had been. She looked back at him. "It was probably because you were holding her wrong."

Uldren gasped at her, exasperated. _ME!? Hold a CAT?_ "Are you KIDDING me? I never even touched the damn thing!"

"Shh!" Martin snapped unexpectantly. He looked at Petra and Peppermint as if to capture the moment of peace in a mental picture. "The _one_ time she isn't clawing someone other than me. This moment needs to last forever."

Was that a blush gracing Petra's cheeks? "Well, I, uh do deal with fallen all the time. Not all of them are as… _intelligent_ as Variks. It, uh, gives me a way with animals, I guess."

The cat purred in her arms, eyes narrowed lazily, though to Uldren, it seemed as if she were still glaring at him.

"So, where do I take this thing?" Silverhawk asked, unclipping the canister from her belt and twirling it in one hand. They all eyed her nervously.

"Up the stairs, to the left. There's a lab; can't miss it." Petra motioned towards the stairs at the other end of the docking bay with one elbow.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n." Silverhawk gave her a tiny solute before skipping off towards the stairs, tossing the canister between her hands. Petra frown after her before looking back at the two men.

"Is she crazy?" she asked.

"What do _you_ think?"

"Always has been." Uldren and Martin answered in unison, respectively. Uldren cast a quick glare in the Warlock's direction before descending the ramp. He could hear the footfalls of the Guardian and emissary clanking on the metal behind him, and half-listened to them as they conversed.

"We found coordinates to a possible cure; or, rather, the equation for it, anyway. It's on Earth; I hope you don't mind giving us a ride." Martin said meekly.

"Not at all, Warlock." Petra assured. "I had a hunch that that was where we would need to be next, my pilot's already locked in for a path to Earth. I'll give him the go-ahead, and we should be there in two hours. Your Ghost has the exact coordinates?"

"Yeah, he does. Got any beds around here?" Martin yawned. Uldren paused as they passed the Wibbly-Wobbly, looking at the ship. One of the wings was torn, and the fire crews were getting a blazing blast near one of the rear thrusters under control. _Maybe they'll need a_ Wibbly-Wobbly _the second. Or third. Or fourth. Good grief, if they need a_ Wibbly-Wobbly _the fifth…_

He turned back, now following Petra and Martin as they made their way to the stairs. Silverhawk's Sparrow was parked a few feet away from the base of the stairs, being examined by the Hunter's Ghost.

"We have some extra ones in crew quarters, if you need them." Petra told him. "I take it none of you have slept at all these past few days? Two hours isn't much, but you should rest while you can. And you look like you could do with a trip to our med bay, as well."

At the mention of sleep, Uldren felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. Over the past few days, he'd been running off of adrenaline and irritability. And with the exhaustion, came the realization that he was _absolutely_ _ **starving**_ _._

 _When was the last time I even ate?_ Had it been ration packs, aboard the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ after Silverhawk's insane rescue? Or had it been the hastily-made and very-much-burnt omelet he'd made himself for breakfast the morning of the Fallen attack?

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die if I don't eat something, like, right _now_." Martin joked. There was an audible growl, no doubt coming from the Warlock's stomach. He patted his tummy. "Walk in the void, you eat like the void, as Ikora always says."

"So, you're a voidwalker, huh?" Petra inquired curiously. "You a career, or just on the side?"

"I'm, uh, more a dud, actually. Ikora says I overthink light manipulation too much." The Warlock admitted nervously, fidgeting with the cuff of one of his sleeves.

"A Warlock, overthinking things?" Petra raised an eyebrow at him as they climbed the steps. "Gee, no surprise there."

"You seem to know a lot about us." Martin commented. Uldren felt like yelling at them to shut up. He had to get Petra on her own as soon as possible.

"I've... worked with a few Guardians before. That, and I've... always found light manipulation to be a rather interesting subject. I'm not a woman of science; that's Faroth's job, but how some forms of Light come more naturally to some Guardian classes than others has always peeked my interest." Petra told him. They came up to the ramp, and Uldren followed them into the same hall that Silverhawk had taken. _Uggh,_ great _._

"Well, it kind of depends on personality, as well as class preference." Martin began to explain, while Petra listened, rapt with attention. Uldren wanted to throw himself out the airlock; or better yet, throw _Martin_ out an airlock. "You see, a Hunter will usually have an… eccentric side to him or herself, and they prefer accuracy, agility, and speed in their fighting style. That eccentric side and desire for speed and agility expresses itself most in the form of Arc energy; you know, they always say, Bladedancers are just Hunters high on caffeine, and the desire for accuracy and clean-cut destruction expresses itself in the form of Solar energy. Of course, the Hunter affinity with fire might just be because every Hunter I've ever met has an obsession with blowing things to smithereens."

"Pft. I hadn't noticed." Uldren scoffed. They both twisted to look at him, and he felt like he was being burned under their gazes before they turned back to each other. They were passing several sets of doors, and a set of ajar double-doors was fast approaching.

"And the Warlock's natural skills with the Void? Where does _that_ come from?" the emissary pressed. Martin tipped his head thoughtfully.

"The Void requires a special kind of understanding. There are so few Nightstalkers because Hunters are used to wilder, more uncontrollable energies, that have to be channeled rather than shaped, like Void Light does. Them and Defenders take the Void and shape it, but that's only because they don't understand it like us Warlocks do; the Void is all about understanding. That's how we're able to channel it, rather than have to shape it. Well, most of us, anyway." He looked down at his hands ashamedly. "Duds _do_ happen; Void duds are the most common, no matter your class."

"So, what does _that_ thing do?" came an eccentric voice from within the lab as they entered. Silverhawk was attempting to poke at a large ball that seemed to exerting some form of electricity. The resident scientist, and cheif medical officer, judging by his badge, slapped her hand away, and she almost immediately moved on to a collection of jumbled wires and small mechanical parts. "This thing?"

Faroth H'rryn yelped and jumped away from his microscope to pull her hastily away from the device.

" _That_ is an experimental sub-nuclear charge that _has yet to be stabilized completely_!" He told her, pushing her towards the door, the Huntress raising her hands innocently. She twisted her head to look at the brown-haired, golden-eyed scientist, a wide grin on her face. _Sub-nuclear WHAT? Should we be worried about this?_

"Sooo…BIG explosions?" she asked hopefully. Uldren, Petra, and Martin pulled off to the side.

"YES." Faroth stated firmly, shoving her out the door, and pulling both shut before she could get back in.

"Gee, thanks for the support, you three! Real nice to know you have my backs!" her muffled protests sounded from the other side of the metal. All three remaining in the room looked from Faroth to the device with worried expressions.

"Um, should we really be entering jump-speed with that thing in such an unstable state? It might cause a G-Diffusion force reaction?" Martin fretted, pulling at the sleeves of his robes again. Uldren blinked at him.

 _For once, can somebody please speak English?_

'What did you just say, Martin? Come on, you know I can't speak geek; speak the Queen's English, for Thames' sake!" Silverhawk yelled through the door, a slight accent tinging her speech.

"Quit referencing the British, Silverhawk!" Martin yelled back, putting on an accent of his own, though more defined. "And you're accent is still terrible!"

"And _you've_ been practicing in the mirror again, haven't you!" Silverhawk accused, taking on a near-perfect Scottish accent. "If you can't get the accent without practice, than you don't deserve to speak like the nobel folk of the island!"

"Oh, now that's Scottish! That just not fair! Cheater!" Martin took a defensive pose, towards the door. _Oh, for the love of—I SWEAR, IF THEY START AN ACCENT WAR,_ _ **SOMEONE**_ _IS GOING TO GET THEIR TONGUE CUT OUT!_

"All's fair in love and accents, little Warlock." Silverhawk replied sweetly.

"Is this normal for you two?" Petra inquired.

"Yes." Came the double reply, half of it from behind the door, while Faroth just continued to look at them, dumbfounded.

"I, erm, I didn't think we'd be…uh, needing to go at _that_ speed…" he murmured, gaining their attention. Uldren stepped forwards, deciding to address the problem at hand.

"The disease sample?" he asked, not needing to say much else. Faroth perked up, and returned to his microscope, beckoning them. The Scope itself was more like a large, glass box with the scope leading down inside. The containment unit had two gloves leading into it, which were ridiculously-and horrifically-bright pink.

"Did you see his gloves?" called Silverhawk's voice right at that moment. Peppermint growled, glowering in the direction of the sample.

"I've only just got it, but I can… _somewhat_ see what Certech did to this stuff. Low-level genetic engineering; like some old Black Death strains were explored as a means of biological weaponry. The observations I've made from various patients seems to suggest that this disease was designed for just such a purpose." He informed them, patting the box. "It's like they were relying on hospitals to keep the infected alive, to cause the most pain as possible."

"Hospitals." Petra frowned, likely having the same thoughts as Uldren. "You mean…this disease was meant for _people_ , _not_ the Fallen?"

Faroth nodded solemnly. "It appears so. In fact, none of the Fallen liveing at the Reef have been infected; not even Variks, who spends more time around humanoid people than others of his kind. And that's not the worst of it."

"What's the worst of it?" Martin asked hesitantly, as if he didn't really want to know the answer to that question. Faroth wiped his brow, looking tired.

"We've dated that building based off the scans Silverhawk's ghost sent us a few hours ago; about…three and a half centuries, give or take a few years." He went over to the explosive whatch-ya-ma-call-it, and started to tinker with it as they eyed his motions worriedly. "Right around the time the first Awoken started to show up; hierarchy was being established, power struggles, awoken panicking after waking up to find they weren't human anymore…a lot of civil unrest in the few refuges people could find on Earth and abroad, back before the Vex arrived. Now, I could be wrong…but it looks like this disease was specifically designed to cause awoken the most pain; to draw their deaths out the longest."

 _So Certech created this disease…to kill US? Why?_

"What confuses me is how they engineered it so that the symptoms wouldn't kill so fast; there are people in the Last City who are coughing their lungs up, but are still kicking. In the early days, humans viewed our kind as a plague as much as they did the Darkness. This disease…must have been Certech's 'solution' to the 'problem'." Faroth sighed.

"So, let me get this straight." Silverhawk's voice came suddenly from directly behind Uldren. _WHAT THE_ ***Redacted^^*** He jumped away from her, and the others all gave a start. Faroth looked from her to the door, which was still closed.

"How…?" his jaw opened and closed stupidly.

"We're fighting an ancient, genetically-engineered disease that was designed to kill awoken in the most painful way possible, we're down two fighter ships, all we have is mysterious directions to a cure that might have been destroyed between now and bout' three hundred years ago, Petra is holding Peppermint without getting bit or scratched or scarred for life(miracle of the century), Uldren has to re-grow his hair(and his ego), Martin needs better driving lessons(as usual), and we only have TWENTY-FOUR-HOURS, _OFFICIALLY_ , to come up with a BRILLIANT and ingenious idiotic plan to synthesize a cure before Ikora dies and all nachos breaks loose. Am I missing anything? Cuz, that's the plan I'm seeing so far." She said all in one breathe. They all stared at her as she took a deep breath, regaining herself. "It's rude to stare, you know."

"Twenty-four hours!" Martin gripped the hair on top of his head, as if he was on the verge of pulling it out. "We only have twenty-four hours! We can't save known civilization in twenty-four hours! What was Cayde thinking, assigning us to this job!? What were _we_ thinking!? Why is it always us? What's with the universe? WHAT IS LIFE!?"

Uldren buried his face in one hand, groaning internally. _Not_ this _again._ He didn't even bother looking up when he heard the loud _slap_ noise.

* * *

 **Hehe, talk about deja-vu.**

 **Okay, first things first; Martenj. Do. You. SHIP IT?! Their little crush was kind of a "spur of the moment" kind of thing. Also, who liked Peppermint?^^ LoL, I just COULDN'T write a fanfiction where Uldren losses his haircut, and NOT have a scene where he get's bit by a cat.**

 **And who knows; Silverhawk and Martin might not be mass-murderers...but Peppermint might very well be! Look out, Prince Jerkface; the predator is on the prowl!**

 **By the way, Amberstar of Thunderclan has FINALLY posted her comedy harry Potter/Star Trek:DS9 fic: Why Dax Hates Pixies. Title is kind of self-explanatory, isn't it?**

 **Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant: Okay, thanks anyway. But yeah, like I said in my last A.N., I threw the "tripled human lifespan" out the window. I mean, just look at all the rotten stuff the apocalypse has exposed humanity to; lifespans are probably shorter now, and remember how I mentioned how I kind of threw the canon lore out the window? I've taken canon events and lore, and I've broke it down and built it back up in a way that pleases me. but Twilight Gap kind of plays an important role in Martin's past; I suppose I'll have to improvise and decide when Twilight Gap happened. And I think I might save Silverhawk's dream explosion for another day...the threequal, perhaps, since the sequal is-I SHALL NOT REVEAL! I SHALL STAND STRONG AGAINST THE PRO-MO SPOILER TEMPTATION! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!**

 **But yeah, now we have a ship! Not a spaceship; a romance ship. Ugh, never thought I'd be writing anything having to do with romance. Ew. You know, Amberstar of Thunderclan kind of puked in her mouth a little when she wrote her first kissing scene. It was hilarious; i made myself popcorn afterwards. But Petra and Martin aren't really going to be all that serious, I don't think; at this point, I'm thinking it would be best served as a shy little crush than as a full-blown "we're dating and everything" kind of thing. And I'm thinking of keeping it that way.**

 **And GASP! We're almost finished! You know, I've been on this sight for bout' three years, counting my years with the Profile Death Glitch, but I've never finished a fanfiction. This is going to be pretty big for me. Chapter-wise, I think we've got about, three, maybe four to go now? It just depends on how long I choose to make them.**

 **Speaking of length, this chapter is almost as long as chapter...oh, I think it chapter seven, I think, that was over ten thousand words long?**

 **Question of the Day:What was your favorite part and/or line from this chapter? So far, what is your favorite part and/or line from this fic as a whole?**

 **Next time: KRAKA-TOA! We head back to where the fic began, find out how things went so wrong for Silverhawk and Uldren, and why Martin wasn't with them. Time is running out...**

 ***holds out little wooden bowl*:Please, sirs and madams...could you pretty please leave a review for my poor, little imagination here? We get so few donations...your kindness is appreciated. But, mostly just answer the QotD above. When this series(part three) ends, I want to make a montage/scrapbook-type chapter of people's most favorite/popular lines and moments.**

 **That, and I just want to decide which one to put on a T-shirt.**

 **LoL.**

 **Next Time: Time is running out, and Uldren realizes the truth.**

 **Cheers!^^**


	11. KRAKA-TOA!

**_"So, we were well on our way to Earth. Two hours of sleep possible, but unlikely."_**

Uldren trailed after Petra insistently, waiting for her first officer to leave so he could talk to her alone. Silverhawk and Martin had charged off to no-where in particular after a repeat of their horror-inducing ritual of self-esteem recovery. Petra and Faroth had cast dumbfounded looks at the pair, and Peppermint had remained as unresponsive as ever.

Now he was stuck waiting for the first officer to shut up about the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ as they made their way over to med bay. Uldren was hoping to at least get his cat bite treated(it already looked infected) before he began his long explanation about Silverhawk to Petra.

"…a while to repair; three days, with what we've got. The most we can do at this point is patch it up a little, the City will be able to repair it completely. The Sparrow's and easy fix, from what that ghost told us. A few minor damages, but it should be alright for riding by the time we get to Earth." The first officer was saying as they entered the med bay. Uldren couldn't remember his name, and he didn't really care.

Martin and Silverhawk were in one corner, where a doctor was tending to some nasty road burns on the Warlock's side and back, while another tried-and failed-to get Silverhawk to sit still while they treated a cut on her cheek. Uldren tensed, only relaxing a little when he noticed the doctor were wearing gloves. _I need to get the word out!_

Uldren went and sat as far away from the two Guardians as possible, though keeping an ear out for their conversation as Petra and her first made their way over to them. A doctor came up and examined his hand with a _tsk_.

"Hold a cat wrong, did you?" she asked. He glared at her.

"I didn't even touch it." He said through ground teeth. He re-focused once more on eavesdropping.

"…you might want your cat back, Warlock. Wouldn't want to have her wondering around here." Petra was saying, carefully lifting Peppermint back into Martin's waiting arms. One of the doctors gave a huff of disapproval, but finished bandaging Martin's wounds none the less.

"Um, th-thank you." Martin squeaked as Peppermint adjusted her position in his arms. Petra gave his road burns a curious frown.

"What happened there?" she asked.

"Um…uh…I, uh, got dragged along for the ride?" he tried lamely. "Silverhawk…kind of had to throw my through the door of that haunted building. Y-you know, when that…thingy came and tried to eat us?"

"Totally not haunted!" Silverhawk interjected. She turned to look at Petra, grinning. "He _totally_ thought it was Uldren coming to haunt us from beyond the grave."

"Did not!" Martin protested, face growing even redder.

"'I'm definitely, one-hundred percent sure that this place is haunted.'" She mocked, swooning. "'Uldren is totally haunting us! We're all going to die!'"

"Silverhawk!" the Warlock took the nearest pillow and threw it at her face, but only succeeded in hitting the doctor next to her, who glared at him while the Hunter buried her face in her hands, laughing. Martin now looked like he was part tomato, and he used Peppermint to hide his face once more, much to the cat's chagrin.

Uldren hissed through his teeth as the doctor disinfected his cat-induced wounds. Petra looked on at the two Guardians, shuffling her feet uncertainly and sharing a confused glance with her first officer before he shrugged in a "you're on your own with this one, pal" kind of way, and walked off back the way they had come.

The golden-brown walls of the _Cirrus_ ' interior offered quite a homely experience for someone who had spent their whole life in space; the dull lighting bright enough to light one's way, but dim enough so as not to cause a reflection when you looked out the windows and to the stars beyond. After romping around in the wild for the last few days, Uldren found the clank of boots on the metal mesh floor and the hum and vibration of the ship's engine that constantly rang in the background to be the most relaxing sound in the world, even despite the fact he'd missed feild work.

He lent back, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of the ship. He would wait for Petra to get done with talking to the idiots, and then he would tell her. Yes, he'd tell her…

 ** _"Fortunately, I'm good at sleeping under stress."_**

"Prince Uldren?" a hand shook him awake. He jerked up, eye snapping open. It was Petra, looking grim. "We've arrived."

He blinked stupidly, realization dawning on him. _I must have fallen asleep! STUPID!_ His old and sometimes unfortunate habit of falling alseep in strange places had betrayed him once more. They had arrived…by which she had obviously meant Earth. Which meant the clock was ticking again, there was no more time to lose; there was no time to tell her about Silverhawk's secret, no time to warn her about it, not time to share his suspicions. If Silverhawk was going to kill him, it was going to be soon, and there was no-one he could tell.

 _I get the cure, and I get out before she can catch up with me._ That was the only plan now. He nodded to Petra, still half-asleep and still a little in shock. "I'll be down in a minute."

She gave a small bow and left, and he looked at his surroundings. He was still in the med bay, though sunlight now poured through the rows of circular windows rather than starlight, and there was a noticeable lack of Silverhawk and Martin. Martin's tattered Warlock robes lay forgotten on the bed he had occupied, and Silverhawk's damaged cloak was folded neatly next to it. Other than that, the only signs that the two Guardians had been there were the muddy boot prints all three of them had left.

Uldren looked down at his own boots, wincing at the sight of the crusty, dried mud. He stood up and stretch, flinching as his sore muscles were forced into action once more. He looked himself over in a nearby mirror.

 _I look more like a hermit than a prince!_ His face was dirty, his hasty haircut was messy and uneven, he had mud all over him, and there were a few tufts of grass still caught on his armor from the valley. There was a bruise on one side of his face, a result of his and Silverhawk's rough landing after falling several hundred feet on a Sparrow, and he felt battered and bruised all over.

The cut on his arm had been re-bandaged properly, and his hand had been dressed in a similar way. He flexed his fingers, and figured that they had put some sort of anethstetic around the wounds. The two hours of sleep had done little to lessen his exhaustion; if anything, it had made him feel the effects of sleep deprivation even worse. _When we get done with this, I'm going to sleep untill the proverbial spring and nothing less._

Turning away from his reflection, he left the med bay. The hall leading back to the docking bay was eerily quiet, though a few curious engineers pocked their heads out to watch him pass. Even the hum of the _Cirrus_ ' engines was quieted, as if the ship itself was holding its breath as the Prince and the two Guardians prepared for the final leg of their mission. With a jolt, he realized what this really was.

This wasn't just when he could be killed by Silverhawk at any given moment; this was the last chance he had to cure his sister. The last, possible way to stop the disease, if they failed to get anything out of the sample.

 _This is it._ A murderer at his side, time blowing at his front, with the looming threat of a deadly illness hanging over his head. AKA, the most dangerous situation he had ever been in. Taking a deep breath, he came out of the hall and onto the ramp that overlooked the docking bay. Petra and her first officer were standing with Faroth, Martin, and Silverhawk on the ramp to the _Timey-Wimey_. He could make out the white blob that was Peppermint in Martin's arms, and Silverhawk stood polishing her Sparrow with a cloth, looking like she was cooing at it like a mother would a child.

 _Well, it's time to board the idiot train again._ He was still starving, and there was a horrible itch on one knee that he couldn't get to because of his armor, in combination with the mud that was crusted on everywhere. Wincing as the mud in the fabric of his armor cracked once more, he descended the steps to the bay, and ran over to the small gathering. Faroth, Petra, and her first officer acknowledged him with small bows of the head, before his sister's emissary began to speak.

"Right; the good news is that Faroth thinks he can synthesize a cure with the sample you guys brought us." She told him. Silverhawk looked up from her Sparrow, and Martin stroked Peppermint's head anxiously as he listed, eyes wide and face frowning with worry.

"And what's the bad news? There's always bad news." Martin's ghost asked, peeking out of the Warlock's pant pocket. He ducked back inside as Peppermint lashed out at him.

"So _that's_ where your ghost was." Petra commented, surprised.

"The bad news," Faroth answered tiredly, "is that it will take at least a week for the cure to reach its full potential, and that there's no way to duplicate it. So far, genetic duplication is the only way to get more of it, but we don't have that kind of technology. Making such a device would take weeks, if not months. By then…we'll have lost too much of the population to make a difference; 90% of organic humanoids will be either dead or too far gone by the time the cure is ready. Whatever this equation is, it has to be better than that, or we're all doomed."

Martin let out a nervous laugh, Silverhawk let out a huff of breath, and Uldren felt like his gut might up and leave via his mouth if his nerves got any worse than this.

"Yeah, like, no pressure, or anything." Silverhawk commented wryly. Uldren blinked, realizing that both she and Martin had changed into different armor. He recognized Silverhawk's chest plate from a crow report he had read a long time ago; a series of hunter armor fashioned to mimic ancient defenders of City refugees, his if memory served. Her new cloak was a dark blue camo that went down to her ankles, and the armor had the same color scheme as her old stuff had; blue and black, with bits of red here and there.

Martin's clothes were much more…well, normal looking; plain as gray, one could say. In fact, it was actually a little worrying that such an idiot would even consider wearing civvies to battle. He was wearing a dark green tunic, with plain brown pants. He still wore his bond, gray and black, around one of his upper arms, fresh duct-tape had been added to the bridge of his glasses, and his boots were of civilian style as well. The tunic reveal the many cuts and scrapes he had receive from the mission so far, and what appeared to be another patch of road burn peeked out from under a bandage on his left arm.

"Why aren't you geared up?" he demanded of the Warlock, who seemed to visibly shrink under his gaze. _Idiot number two has just about reached the end of my patience._

"I, uh, I-I-"

"He's not cleared for duty for this one, Prince Uldren." Petra interjected. Martin cast her a shy, grateful glance before looking at the floor, suddenly finding his boots to be _very_ interesting indeed. "Doctors don't want him running around with burns like that; they were kind of infected."

"But I will, uh, I'll be standing by to come pick you and Silverhawk up." Martin added hopefully.

"Pick us up? From where?" Uldren asked, confused. _Can't Petra just get us from wherever we're going?_ It took him a few moments to remember that he was planning on leaving Silverhawk behind. It looked like now, he was going to have to kick Martin and Peppermint off the _Timey-Wimey_ in order to make his escape.

 _Everything just got ten times more complicated._ Plus, there was always the worrying thought that Martin would crash the _Timey-Wimey_. How that man had managed to be approved for a ship license was a mystery…

"Oh, boy." Silverhawk commented, echoing Uldren's thoughts. "As soon as we get on, _I'm_ driving."

"Oh, no you're not!" Martin protested fiercely, whirling around to face his friend. "It's _my_ ship!"

"Yeah, and we're going to be carrying precious cargo." Silverhawk countered.

"Why can't _you_ come and get us?" Uldren asked Petra, hoping to salvage some kind of chance to be picked up by someone trustworthy.

"Faroth thinks that going to the City will speed up the process of synthesizing a cure from the sample." Petra shrugged. "That, and the volcanic smoke is too much for the _Cirrus_ to handle. The _Timey-Wimey_ has the filters needed to get in and out without breaking down."

"Ah, well that make—VOLCANIC SMOKE!?" he burst out as he registered what she had said. _What the heck!? Nobody said_ anything _about a volcano!_

"Oh, uh…We kind of forgot to tell you. That, and you were asleep." Martin turned his head to explain sheepishly."The, uh, the coordinates, they, um, they lead to an old Certech facility that was posted at the base of an old and, erm, very _infamous_ volcano. Now, it was probably dormant three hundred years ago, but now...not so much."

"Martin..."Uldren said slowly, bracing himself and trying to keep the urge to scream under control,"which volcano?"

Martin gulped."Krakatoa."

* * *

 ** _"Okay, so as soon as I heard the word 'Krakatoa', my whole brain just went 'NOPE'. And I only admit to that because COME ON!? Who freaking builds a lab on a volcano known for exploding, and then puts a much-needed cure in said lab! Seriously, I mean COME FREAKING ON!"_**

 ** _"WHERE IS THE LOGIC IN THAT!?"_**

The _Timey-Wimey_ rumbled and trembled beneath him as they flew over the sea and towards the volcanic island, as if the ship were preparing them for the conditions they were about to face on the surface. He stood, gripping a handle on one of the upper walls of the ramp bay, jaw set as he tried to map out a plan for himself to escape.

So far, nothing he had thought of would work in this current situation. He adjusted the strap that held his scout rifle across his back as he scratched another plan off the list. He knew that for there to be any hope at all, he had to get to the cure first. And then he would have to find a way to wrest control of the _Timey-Wimey_ before Silverhawk got to him. That would no doubt mean killing Martin( _and_ his cat), and then getting off the ground before the Hunter caught up with him. Key to such a plan would likely mean hijacking Silverhawk's Sparrow, and to do that, he would need to find a way to separate her from the vehicle and leave him alone with it.

And so far, he was drawing up a complete blank on just how he was going to accomplish that. He had no idea where the lab was, had no idea where the cure was in the lab, and he had no idea where Martin was planning on picking them up. As much as he hated it...

 _It looks like I'm going to have to improvise as I go along._ There were too many unknowns to form a proper plan, detail to detail, so a basic idea was the best he could do at this point.

The clank of boots on metal heralded the arrival of Silverhawk, who was carrying a helmet and a collar-type device in each hand. She was no longer carrying the _Sparky-Sparky Boom-Boom Stick_ , and she seemed to him to appear slightly taller because of it.

"Which way do you go; helmet or mask?" she asked cheerfully, holding up each item. He took the helmet from her with a glare.

"Looks like I'm going mask it is, then!" she chirped, working the collar around the back of her neck. He froze as she took her sunglasses off, once again revealing the burning, sky-blue eyes that marked her as a hybrid. Shaking off the unease that trickled down his spine, he fitted the helmet over his head. It was comfortable, at least, and the long visor offered him well enough vision that he didn't have any complaints, though his senses felt horrible restricted. Fresh air gushed in from the re-breather, and he hoped that the filters would hold out once they got to the island.

"We're coming up on the island! If you're going to drop down, now's the time to do it! We've got Fallen down there!" Martin's voice called from above, up in the cockpit.

"Got it!" Silverhawk replied, rushing up to her Sparrow and uncliping the straps that held it in place on the floor. She turned it on, revving the engines and engaging the extension, which emerged from the back of the Sparrow with a whir of mechanics. _Ugh, not again!_ His last experience on a Sparrow had been traumatizing enough!

"Up you get, Prince!" the Hunter chirped, patting the handles of the extension. he glowered at her from under his helmet, and reluctantly approached the Sparrow. Silverhawk shoved her fedora back so that it hung over her back from the strap that held it around her neck, revealing a messy bun of brown hair, which was, strangely, streaked with white at the tips. He looked at it curiously for a few moments, earning him a knowing grimace from the Hunter.

"Don't ask." she stated simply, waving a hand to indicate her hair. Still glowering, he jumped onto the extension, gripping the handles tightly.

"I _swear_ , Silverhawk, if you crash again, so help me I'll have you be-headed." he grumbled. The hybrid gasped, whirling around to face him, concern etched along her features.

"Uldren! Was that...a _joke_? Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she fretted dramatically. Anger flashed through him realizing what he had said.

"Just shut up and drive!" he snapped. She turned back around.

"Okay!" she chirped, pressing the side of the collar. Suddenly, it seemed to grow round her, metal plates sliding up her neck, around her ears, and creeping up her face. Metal parts extended with clicks and whirs to form a re-breather and eyepieces, and a streak of energy flashed along the edges as it finished it's construction. "Drop us, Pippin!"

"Quit calling me that." came the drowned reply as the ramp of the _Timey-Wimey_ extended, Uldren still mentally checking himself for evidence of dillusion after having seen the collar eat Silverhawk's face. _Did I just see what I think I saw?!_ He was snapped back to reality as the Sparrow kicked forwards.

"YEEE-HAAAA!" Silverhawk cried as they sped down the ramp and down to the broiling sea below."KRAKA-TOA!"

The Sparrow hit the water with a splash, dowsing them in seawater before the vehicle righted itself. Uldren clutched the handles so hard, he thought he might break his hands, as they sped across the water like a floating jet ski. _Dang it dang it dang it dang it dang it._ He thought continuously. He risked a glance back, and saw the _Timey-Wimey_ lifting into the sky above them.

He jerked back around as the Sparrow hit another wave, and on the fast-approaching shore, he could see Fallen swarming along the boulders.

The island itself was huge. There were many other islands all around it…several of which looked like they had been blown up, now merely the outlines of craters in the water, half sticking out of the dark water as the one intact island loomed over them all. Exactly how long it would be intact for, he couldn't tell, because it billowed out enough smoke to darken the sky for miles, and even from a distance, he could see arcs of fire, rock, and ash spewing from various points along the mountain.

It was menacing to say the least, and the blackness of the island only added to the "totally an evil island" vibe he was getting from it. Some way up near the top of the volcano, he could see what might have been a structure of some sort, half-buried into the rocky face of the small mountain. It would be a daunting task to get up there, and even more so to make his escape. _I hope I live to regret this idea._ Perhaps he _should_ have sent someone else along on the mission. There were _several_ Crows whom he knew of that would have been more than capable of handling this just as much as he could.

It was like he had been struck by one of the lightning bolts that flickered and boomed through the billowing cloud of ash that rose from the volcano. At the thought of his Crows, something went _click_ , as if a mystery had just been solved. He struggled to catch the new piece of information, but before he could grasp it, Silverhawk was yelling over her shoulder at him. He swore loudly.

"Now's the time when you start shooting things, and I keep driving. And watch your language!" she yelled, before pressing the Sparrow onto the shore, the vehicle jerking as it made the transfer. The Fallen, whose House colors he recognized as that of the House of Wolves, had been alerted to their presence by the _Timey-Wimey_ , started to shoot, and Uldren lifted his rifle of his back, anger boiling through him.

He and his Crows had spent months chasing cold leads, trying to figure out how the House had begun to rebuild; _outside_ the Reef. They kept tabs on all Fallen living among the Awoken, none of them had been leaving; but the House had been growing anyway. Which meant that whoever the new leader of the Wolves was, they were recruiting from other Houses. As he shot a vandal in the head as they flew by, he couldn't help but feel dread withering around in inside him. It was a familiar feeling with this case, but it was even stronger now knowing what was currently at steak.

 _"A rematch",_ he thought, _was what that Fallen said. Another Twilight Gap, another Reef war. A chance for the Wolves to prove themselves loyal to the cause after the others' defeat at the hands of the Guardians. This disease is their chance; if I can get the cure, then I can break that chance, and end the Wolves._ Then came finding their new Kell, and killing him before he could do anymore damage.

He lurched forwards as the Sparrow began to climb, up, up, up and over the rocks and ashy slopes of the volcano, running over the occasional unlucky Fallen. The bullets they fired mostly missed, or otherwise _ping_ -ed off the armor plating of Silverhawk's Sparrow. He gripped the handles, looking around wildly. If he didn't start shooting again, no matter how armored or fast this Sparrow was, they would be overwhelmed fairly quickly. But if he tried to shoot, he would fall off the Sparrow and no doubt hurt himself very bad.

His searching gaze found a spare rope coiled up on the side of the Sparrow, and he took his knife out, cutting it loose, before hastily wrapping it around his waist and tying the ends to the handles. Twisting in his now steady standing position, he brought his rifle up to eye level once more, and began to knock off the enemies that had begun to charge after them.

"Alright, this is where I drop you off!" Silverhawk called. _What?_ He snapped his head around in shock, giving himself a painful bolt whiplash.

"What do you mean!?" they were coming up on the half-buried facility, and there was a field of large fissures between it and them, all of which let off an eerily red glow, spouting fire occasionally.

"I mean, cover for me while I charge the keep!" with one hand, she took out one of the blades strapped to her legs, and reached behind herself expertly…and cut the rope that held him to the Sparrow.

Be didn't have time to protest, and he grabbed at the handles too late. The Sparrow slowed briefly, and then kicked forwards with even greater speed, the extension retracting. Uldren was thrown off, hitting the ground and rolling head-over-feet painfully. _I hate her, SO much._ He groaned, wincing and pushing himself to his feet and glaring after Silverhawk as she sped away towards the buried building. He could feel that the cut on his arm had re-opened...AGAIN, and his already battered body felt even worse now.

His leg smarted as he bent down to pick up his rifle, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to get the stiffness out of them. He examined his surroundings, looking for possible cover. The large boulders would offer sufficient enough cover, if worse came to worst, though the pockets of exploding gas and fire caused a certain amount of unease. _Fighting here is going to be like working in a mine field._ Howls sounded behind him, and he ran for the nearest boulder, turning as he did so to see the horde of Fallen clumsily making their way up the slope.

Settling his rifle on the top of the rock, he began to pick them off as they struggled up the terrain. _Huh. Easier than I thought._ It was like, as the old human saying went, shooting fish in a barrel.

* * *

Silverhawk ground her Sparrow to a halt just outside the building. She could hear the sound of Uldren's rifle going off in the distance behind her, and over that, the hissing and popping of the steam vents and tiny lava fountains going off. One went off nearly directly under her foot as she dismounted, and she jumped back onto her Sparrow with a yelp.

"This island's a little salty, eh, Westley?" she remarked, the little robot gliding up next to her head."Get it? 'Salty'? Cuz we're in the middle of the ocean?"

The ghost rolled his eye. "Terrible puns aside, I'm picking up a signature inside, similar tot he one the Certech computer was letting off."

She perked up hopefully. _Another computer? Are there answers in there?_ Any possible leads into a cure for her condition, if such a cure existed, would be like a million Christmases and birthdays all at once. No more "monster" this, or "freak" that. _No doubt, it would appease Uldren._ The Prince hadn't spoken about the incident at all since it had happened, and had spoken to her even less than he had been before.

The fact that he kept glaring at her murderously didn't help. _But, then again, it could just be what his face always looks like._ She hadn't seen him crack one smile during the whole trip; not _one_! She was starting to think that the only thing that would get him to smile or laugh or anything, would be merciless tickling. Which he would propably shoot her for, if she tried it. She was still weighing the pros and cons on that one.

But other than the usual glaring, there was the backlight of fear in his eyes. That same fear that shone in the eyes of those few who knew about her touch. Her being half awoken was no secret around the Tower; she had spent the remainder of her childhood there, and she hadn't started hiding her appearance until she'd started training, and she had always worn gloves and long sleeves, no matter what the weather was; having skin exposed was a risk she couldn't take, not then, not now, and probably not ever.

But those who knew, by accident or by her own will, they were all afraid of her. Even Martin, though he didn't seem to realize it himself; but what else could explain his constant state of fear, at least, whenever she was around? Maybe he was just paranoid, or maybe _she_ was just being paranoid, but her jumpy companion had to be jumpy for a reason, right? Sure, it could be Wheatly rubbing off on him, but she couldn't help but feel like she had something to do with it.

"Well," she clapped her hands together, rubbing them,"let's ditch this frying pan and head into the fire, shall we?"

She dismounted on the side that hadn't blown up, and pulled out one of her blades as she approached the rusty, blacked door to the building, hanging off it's hinges and looking all-around trust-worthy. She tried to tenderly pull it aside, but it let out a groan, and she jumped back as it fell to the floor with a loud clang. Looking at Westley, she gestured to the gaping maw of the dark interior of the building.

"Ghosts first." she offered, grinning beneath her mask.

"It's _ladies_ first, Silverhawk. _You're_ a lady."

"Age before beauty; _you've been_ around since the Collapse began, and my dead years don't count."

"It's a gentleman's duty to hold the door open and let the girls go first."

"AHA! But _you_ don't have any thumbs, and _I_ opened the door!"

"Buuuut...it doesn't count because the door wasn't opened by anyone; it was broken."

"The it was a jar. Who goes first after opening a jar?"

"That doesn't make any sense."

" _You_ , Westley; _you_ go first after opening a jar. You're the only one who can fit in one."

"No pain, no gain; it's the Guardians who have to do the gaining, I'm just here to hack stuff."

"And provide emotional support in my times of need. You have a flashlight head, you're going first, no exceptions. I'll let you now when humanity evolves to have night vision."

The little robot sighed, and glided forward, eye down and shell drooping in mock depression. He led the way into the dark doorway, his eye lighting up and illuminating the area. Silverhawk stepped over the threshold, stumbling as she adjusted her footing in the piles of ash that had build up over the years. _It's like walking into an oven._

"Now I know what the Thanksgiving turkey feels like." she joked. Even through her armor, it felt like she was being baked alive. Outside it had been tolerable, but this building was shockingly hot; so much so, she was surprised it hadn't gone up in flames a long time ago.

 **"The what?"** Martin's voice came from over her mask comms.

"The Thanksgiving turkey. You know, Thanksgiving? Big feast, gorge yourself till you die, turkey death day, giving thanks." she explained. She had spent the first years of her life living in the Collapse, when the awoken were a fairly new development, and clinging on to old earth traditions had brought a sense of hope and joy to the small village where she had grown up. It had been to her great shock to discover that everyone had forgotten about Christmas in the last three hundred years, though she and a few other revived Guardians had been working over the years to revive the holiday completely.

She could still vividly remember her first Christmas at the Tower, in which Cayde-6(then a new Hunter) had plotted with her and Martin to leave the Tower inhabitants a little morning present. But one of the unfortunate side-effects of being a revived Guardian was the fact that half the time, nobody knew what you were talking about when it came to old traditions.

 **"Oh, oh, I think you've mentioned this one before! Is it the one about the Indians and the British?"** he guessed.

"Correct-a-mundo. A word I have never said before, and hopefully will never say again." a static buzz began to take over the comms as she pressed farther into the dark, dusty building. "Hold on; I'm getting some nasty interference down here. I'll contact you once I'm out."

 **"Right."** came her friend's distorted voice. **"Be careful down there, Heather."**

"I will; quite worrying." she reassured him.

 **"I'm not worried."** he bald-faced lied, the interference nearly drowning him out.

"Yes you are; you only call me 'Heather' when you're worried." whatever he said next, she couldn't make it out; all she could hear was a loud, buzzing noise.

"Silverhawk; up here!" Westley called from ahead. She picked her way through the ashes, and looked around as her eyes finally began to adjust completely to the dim light of her ghost-lit path. The interior of the building was just about unrecognizable, piles of ash blown in from the years and what looked like several dried puddles of lava that had leaked in through the wall marring the entire appearance of what might have once been a front lobby.

A dirty, ash-covered desk was at one end, a set of stairs led off to the left side of the room, and there was a busted door in front of a room just to the right of the desk. Westley hovered over to the old room, shining his light through the door.

"What is it?" she asked, approaching him. It seemed to get even hotter the closer she got, and even the air coming through her re-breather was starting to get uncomfortably stifling.

"The signal's coming from somewhere in here; from what I can see of my scans(which isn't much, by the way; his heat is jamming my sensors up horribly), there's some kind of entrance in the back, similar to the one we encountered at the other lab." he told her, dimming his light so as not to blind her as he turned to face her. His back shell spun."If it's not a secret entrance, then I'm a mouse!"

Guided by his light, she entered the room, cautiously looking around for any traps that Certech might have left behind. Content that nothing was going to blow up in her face, she made her way to the back of the room, where an old, metal bookcase stood against the wall behind a scorched desk. What once might have been the bookcase's contents were scattered all over the floor...

Except for one. An old, blackened hula doll at the edge of the middle shelf.

"A hula doll? really?" she reached out, and pulled it. There was a loud, scraping, screeching sound as the case began to slid to the side, and she tried to cover her ears. But alas, twas in vain, as the mask covered her ears, therefor preventing her from blocking out the sound. It was one of those agonizing noises that made your teeth hurt. _Snapple cracks!_ She shouted mentally.

The case stopped with a final screech, revealing a narrow passage behind it. There was an early red glow coming from somewhere farther in the tunnel, and a rush of burning hot air came out to greet her. Her and her ghost looked at each other, and he played the small Legend of Zelda victory chime, the short medley echoing down the tunnel.

"Looks like you're staying a Ghost, then. Pity, really; I was wondering what your fursona would look like." she teased, causing him to roll his eye at her. She stepped forwards into the tunnel. There was what might have once been a computor imbeded into the wall; hauntingly familiar in design, she'd seen something similar during her time as a certech lab rat.

"Nah, you know you could never live with yourself if I turned into a mouse. Mice have no charm; _I've_ got personality." he said, hovering at her shoulder, scanning the old computor. She looked at him, hand over her heart with mock affrontation.

"Ghost!" she chided playfully. "Mice are _adorable_! If that's not charm, I don't know what is!"

"They poop every three minutes, chew holes in walls, and wet themselves while you're holding them. That's not charm. _And_ they carry diseases." he argued pointedly. The computor flickered on in a flash of static, and numbers and symbols and half-rendered menus danced across the screen.

"Um, you don't have any hands, you can't get sick, and have you ever see a mouse with a tiny little top hat on? It's freaking adorable." she listed on the fingers of one hand, still gripping a blade in the other. Westley finished his scan, backed away from the compurot, and left it to turn off with a flash of static.

"There, done; I didn't find much on you, but I did find the locations of numerous Certech labs, as well as many, many blueprints for their other projects. And that doesn't mean mice have personality; _I_ have an emotional interface, and I'm just as cuddly and lovable as any mouse could ever be. I was your living teddy bear for what; three years? And I did quite the good job, if I do say so myself. Perfection in the role of emotional support, with eloquence _and_ dignity abound." Her Ghost bragged eloquently, shifting his shell and whirring pridefully with the Ghost equivalent of walking with his chin raised high.

"I'd _love_ to see you admit that in front of another ghost." she challenged, trying to push away the drowning dissapointment she felt. Many ghosts of children met the fate of being cuddled and coddled like sentient stuffed toys. Many were tolerant, many sometimes enjoyed the attention, but none of them would ever mention it to each other. It was a strict matter of pride.

He let out a whir and a bleep, and might have been about to respond, if not for the loud groan that came from ahead. They froze, listening carefully, hoping that the tunnel wasn't about to collapse on top of them. After a few moments, they continued on in silence, until the red glow became so bright, her ghost didn't need to light the way anymore.

 _Oh, snapple cracks._

"Mamma mia…" Westley muttered as they came into the room. It was so hot, she wondered if she might be in danger of having a heat stroke. But there, at the back of the room, was a rusty vault. And leaking through the walls and covering a good portion of the floor, was molten-hot lava.

"Well, I think it's safe to say, the cure is in the vault. Correction; the conveniently placed-on-the-other-side-of-a-lava-field vault." Silverhawk sighed. "Ready for this?"

"No."

"Thanks for the confidence-booster."

Cautiously, she began to weave her way through the puddle field. " _Become a Guardian!", they said. "It'll be fun!", they said._ She made care to pull her cloak around and hold it in one arm to keep it from being set on fire. She nearly got her foot burned off when she made the mistake of trying to step on a seemingly-cooled puddle of black obsidian. There also multiple other times in which she nearly lost a toe(or two), but a complete detail of her slow retrieval and extraction of the cure out of that room would inconvenience you as readers, and seem like an over-detailing on my account. So please, ignore this rupture of the fourth wall.

When she got to the vault(finally), she channeled arc into her blade, shoved it between the door and the rim of the vault, and the metal burst open, nearly hitting her in the face like the door from the Venus lab. _Snapple cracks!_ She cursed inwardly as she narrowly avoided the blow, staggering and nearly falling backwards into a puddle of lava. Westley yelped, and zoomed around to push at the small of her back in an attempt to steady her(this really didn't do much, as one can imagine).

She grabbed the vault door and pulled herself up, steadying herself, but at the same time experiencing a terrible burning sensation in her hand, and she let go of the hot metal as soon as she was stable. She shook out her hand as Westley let out a "Whew" of relief.

"Okay, then; that metal is hot. Maybe not touch any more metal then." She commented. She used the butt of her blade to open the door all the way.

 _Are you KIDDING ME!?_

Inside the vault was a _metal_ canister, about the size of her hand, with what looked like mathematical gibberish engraved all over one side.

"So much for not touching metal." the blue ghost said forlornly with a bleep. She sighed. The hot metal of the door had burned, even when she was wearing her glove. She looked down at her gauntlets, an idea coming to her. _It would be risky, with Uldren around; he wasn't wearing any gloves, last time I checked. But if it helps me fight the temptation to drop the thing…_

She sheathed her blade, and took out her knife, which(thankfully) had yet to heat up to the same degree as the door or the canister. She expertly cut off the wrist guard of her right gauntlet, and wrapped it around her right hand, reinforcing her glove. Crossing her left fingers, she reached in, and took the canister. Much to her satisfaction, it didn't burn with the same degree as the door had before.

She turned to grin under her mask at Westley.

"Looks like we're going home."

* * *

Uldren was swearing right now. He didn't care what language the swear was in, he was letting the string of "bad words" run out his mouth like there was no tomorrow.

Why was he swearing right now? Because, just when he thought he was in the clear, after killing nearly all the Fallen that had followed them up the volcano, a small troop had ambushed him from above. He had heard the Captain in time to avoid a deadly blow, but his scout rifle had met a violent fate, having been cut in half by the Captain's shock blades.

He had had to run, because of the unexpected attack. He had shot several Fallen with his hand cannon, but then a vandal had loomed up from behind a boulder, and, before he could react, had punched him across the face with a force that had sent him flying a short distance.

The blow had also shattered his visor. Which was why he was swearing. Still reeling from the punch, he looked up, barely making out the figure coming at him with a pair of blades. he lifted his hand cannon, hoping it would hit, and emptied the mag. he saw the form fall to the ground, blood bursting from it, and he heard and saw the blast of a wire rifle hit the ground dangerously close to his head.

He staggered to his feet, rushing for the nearest discernible boulder, and vaulted over it before ripping his helmet off.

* * *

Silverhawk emerged from the building to find her Sparrow was _not_ where she had left it.

"What the Snapple cracks!?" she exclaimed, the canister still gripped in her hand. She whirled, looking around for it desperately. Then, she spotted it, and rage exploded inside of her.

"HEY!" she yelled, running towards them."WHAT IN THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!? THAT'S NOT A PIKE THAT'S MY SPARROW!"

A small group of Fallen had discovered her vehicle, and several dregs were trying to ride it at once; trying, because they didn't seem to have any idea what they were doing. A few vandals and other dregs were just sitting on the sidelines, cackling their butts off at the failures of their comrades. At Silverhawk's shout however, they all sat bolt upright, grabbing their guns.

She opened her mouth to yell at the again, but she was interrupted as a vent blew just under her injured leg. _POOPY MCGUMBO!_

"SNAPPLE CRACKS!" her mouth countered. At this, the Fallen halted, confused as to what the heck she had just said. She was sent flying to the right, and the canister flew out of her hand as she landed dangerously close to one of the fissures that(supposedly and most definitely) led to a painful, burning death. _Oh, no you don't!_ her hand shot out to stop it from rolling over the edge, but she mis-judged the distance. Intsead, the hot metal was pinned to the very edge of the fissure by her very exposed wrist.

She bit back a scream as the metal pressed against her skin, fighting through the pain to try and retrieve the canister. But before her other hand could relieve her burning wrist of it's burden, the sound of a wire rifle going off went through the air, and she barely had time to register the sound before agony bolted up her hand like lighting. She retracted it, screaming, and the canister fell, down, down, down, down into the fire.

Mind dizzy with pain, she watched it disappear, and felt her world crash like Martin on a Sparrow in the middle of a boulder field. _No._

She looked up back at the Fallen, where a vandal was re-aiming his wire rifle, perhaps at her head. The agony in her hand, and the rage that boiled in the pit of her stomach, and the horrible realization that it was all her fault, made the storm within her howl, bay, scream for blood.

And she set the storm loose. Arc energy shot through her body, her nervous system accelerated as the electrical impulses increased tenfold. everything became faster, more precise, more clear, more swift. All she needed was one thing...

She reached up, and pressed the engagements on her mask collar. The metal mask retracted down her face, revealing her face, flooding her suddenly-enhanced senses with the smell of volcanic ash, the tainted stench of her own burnt flesh, the sound of rocks and ash and fire, her vision honing in on the vandal that had fired the shot that had cost all known civilization unimaginable loses.

She launched herself forwards, the storm baying for revenge, unsheathing her blades. Like lighting, she was there in only one second, her arc blades piercing the vandal through the chest. The pain in her hand was non-existent as the lightning embraced her. _I'm going to make you pay, stupid-heads!_

She whirled around, taking her blades out with her, and charged at the nearest Fallen. She cut him around the middle in a passing blow, before driving her other blade up the chin of the next vandal. She spun as two dregs tried to get at her from both sides, jumping and letting the storm free below her, lightning blasting them to pieces.

She landed, and looked back at the dregs that were still corrupting her Sparrow. They froze, and a few of them backed away uneasily, only one of them staying in the seat.

"Get. Your dirty paws. Off. MY. _SPARROW_."

The dreg in the seat went flying, and the rest ran for their lives from the Guardian's wrath. The storm and it's rage died down, and she felt the horrible pain in her hand return. Westley floated out from behind the boulder he had hid behind, gliding over to her and inspecting her hand with a worried bleep.

"That looks really bad." He stated the obvious.

"Why, thank you, Captain Obvious." He gave her a discouraging look.

"Don't do that. And the damage is probably mostly cosmetic; if you hadn't been wearing your sleeve on you hand, you'd probably need an amputation." He told her. He scanned the wound. "Though there _is_ some damage to the tendons, and your pinky is, well, shattered. It's nothing Terra-27 can't fix."

"When she's not busy keeping people comfortable." Silverhawk said forlornly. Her throat felt tight. Her insides felt broken.

 _"Our best healthy option."_

 _My first major mission. The fate of known civilization depended on it. Not what I had expected, but I never thought I would fail it…fail everybody… fail our_ mother _...I...I never told Martin..._

"Oh, no you don't!" Westley reprimanded fiercely, coming eye-level with her. "I know that look! The 'I'm blaming myself right now' look! _NONE_ of this is your fault, Heather Chancellor! You hear me? NONE of it. THIS, this was _Certech_ , and the _Fallen_ , and a whole bunch of other weird science-y junk that we don't understand."

"I should have been more careful, West. I should have held on tighter." she countered, swinging her leg over her Sparrow and settling her feet into the peddles. She let out a cough as the volcanic fumes assaulted her senses, now that the 'Arc-Blade high" was wearing off. "I failed the mission. I'm to blame for every death that comes as a result. There's nothing you can say that will change that."

 _My fault, my fault, my fault._ The words rang through her bones, coinciding with the old song of "You're too strange to be a Guardian; too dangerous, to untrustworthy", and "Monster", and "Death bringer". She pulled her fedora up onto her head, took her sunglasses out, and flicked them open. Her ghost let out a sigh, and she felt his light weight enter the hood of her cloak. She put her glasses on.

"So, we failed the mission; what now?" her Ghost's voice asked. She revved the engines, and brushed a speck of dirt off the dash. _As Guardians start to die, the Darkness will surely notice. They'll attack the City every day._

"We get ready for the fight of our lives." She kicked the Sparrow into high gear, and they were blasting off in the direction of the gunfire sounds coming from farther down the slope.

* * *

Uldren leaned out of cover to fire off several shots from his hand cannon, but the gun clicked uselessly-

 ** _"Whoa, whoa, whoa; wait, I think I already showed this part. Yup, I definitely already showed this part. Just, let me fast forwards here, check the log..."_**

 ** _"Out of ammo, blah, blah, blah, dreg hit by Sparrow, blah, blah, blah, she lost the cure, vent blows us sky high, th-ah, that was it! Okay, now, at least I_** **think** ** _this is where I started at, it continued along the lines of this..."_**

They screamed as they began to fall back to the ground, the Sparrow dropping like a stone.

"You idio-" he was cut off, winded, as he landed, the impact shocking his body. Groaning, he realized that he was still moving, his face pressed against cold metal as the wind rushed past him. Vision hazy, he saw the smoky clouds rushing past above him, and there was the mechanical sound of ship engines mixed in with the roar of the wind.

"Martin Anton, I love you, dude!" Silverhawk's voice yelled over the wind. Recovering his breath and facing away from the wind, he gripped the edge of the _Timey-Wimey's_ wing, his initial relief at not being dead turning into wild fear, his insides lurching as he cough sight of the drop below, and at the speed at which they were flying. He ducked his head under his chest to keep the fast air from causing his lungs to explode, and he saw Silverhawk crouched in the middle of the back of the ship, clutching Westley close to her chest and yelling at it excitedly, presumably taking to Martin.

 _So much for my escape plan._ He groaned internally, and rubbed his forehead with one hand. There was a dull ache in his head, and his lungs were _not_ thanking him for that exposure to volcanic toxins; his breathing felt all scratchy, and he was couching like he had the disease. Which, he seriously hoped wasn't the case.

"Did you get my Sparrow!?" He heard Silverhawk yell. He didn't catch the response. He glared at her, and she turned to face him, tucking Westley under one arm, pinning him to her side, and cupping her hands over her mouth to shout at the prince.

"We're going to land! Do you hear me? Or do I just look stupid?" she practically screamed. He only gave her a simple nod, and she gave him a toothy grin and a thumbs up, before taking her ghost out from under her arm, and crouching lower to the back of the ship. Her cloak flung and flapped itself around her, and he was surprised that that stupid hat of hers didn't fly off into the sky. _Stupid idiot, getting everybody killed-_

Everything inside him crashed as the news about the cure finally caught up with him after their hectic escape. _The cure. Destroyed. Mara..._ everyone _...we're all going to die._ The mission had been failed. His sister was going to die, and then what? He wouldn't even be crowned, there was no point; he'd be dead two weeks into his reign. And after that? Would the inhabitants of the Reef just die and die and die until there was no-one left? Or would the Fallen have their 'revenge' before the disease could kill everyone?

The _Timey-Wimey_ began to lower itself to the ground, but Uldren didn't notice; he didn't _care_. He had failed. He'd told himself that _he_ would be the one to get the cure, that _he_ would escape his would-be murderers and return to the Reef a champion, a hero. _He_ would save his sister. But he had failed, and now she would die because of that failure.

 _But there's_ one _thing I can make right..._ He might not be able to save his sister, but he couldn't let death walk free, even if the disease would kill them all eventually. He could kill Silverhawk, put an end to whatever crimes she'd planned, avenge all those she had killed before now.

 _That_ , was the _only_ thing he could do now.

* * *

"My baby!" Silverhawk exclaimed as soon as the ramp opened. She rushed forwards to her Sparrow, sliding on her knees next to it, and ran her hand down it's side. The paint was scratched and scuffed, and there were several dents in one side, the protective glass on the dash shattered near the left edge.

"There, there, my precious; mommy's here." she cooed to the vehicle. Some kind of coolant fluid leaked out of the rear and onto the floor in a slow, drizzly manner, creating a multi-colored pool of gook on the floor under it. "I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe now, you darling thing you!"

He felt like puking in his mouth. _By the rings of Saturn; it's just a freaking Sparrow!_

"Silverhawk!" Martin called from the cockpit. "Close the door, you'll let in a draft. Or let out the cat; either one is bad."

Uldren climbed up the ramp, and hit the button on his way in. The ramp lifted with a whir, and he was shut in with his enemies. An uneasy shiver ran down his spine at this realization. He coughed again, still suffering the effects of the volcanic air. _I hope this coughing doesn't give me away when I try to... kill them._ At the beginning of this mission, he would have leapt for joy at the prospect of killing either one of these idiots; now, with the cure gone, and Silverhawk a walking bringer of death, he was much less looking forwards to the prospect.

In fact, he was _terrified_. Yes, him, Uldren Sov, was terrified of killing someone he hated, in self defense. Questions kept flying around in his head, like "Will her blood kill me if it touches me?", or "How dangerous is Martin, really?", and "Can I kill her before she can touch me, in this close a space?"

There was also the looming prospect of explaining why he had killed the two Guardians he had supposed to have been working with, and getting out of City territory in a hurry if things got too hairy. He was _not_ going to have fun with _that_ conversation.

"You'd better hand the cure to me, Silverhawk; I don't like how you played with the sample, and we both know you have a habit of loosing things." Martin's voice came again. Silverhawk froze, and let out a heavy sigh. Uldren gestured for her to go ahead.

"You're the one who dropped it. Keep me out it." he insisted angrily. She looked up at him, expression hidden by her glasses, all but her frown. Slowly, she got up, and walked past him, making her way around to the cockpit. Something hit him with the force of a Cabal's punch.

 _This is the perfect chance._ All he had to do was come up behind them, while their idiotic backs were turned. Silverhawk, up the back of the neck, _stab_. Martin, through the throat, _stab_. Then, it would all be over. He looked around, and spotted an old cleaning rag near a recently-used tool kit. Silently, he walked up, and wrapped his right hand in it. He took out his knife, holding it in his right hand, hoping it would be enough to stop Silverhawk's blood, if it was as deadly as she was.

He stopped, and listened. Under the hum of the ship, he could make out hushed voices, coming from the cockpit. his heartbeat quickened. _They're doing it. They're planning it. They planning how to kill me._ What information would they try to pump out of him, before murdering him? What was it that they thought he knew, to keep him alive this long? The mission was over; perhaps, failed on purpose. They didn't need him to keep up the ruse anymore; they could, in fact, do whatever they wanted with him now.

He desperately wished he had back-up right now. he gathered himself, and took a deep breath, forcing his lungs not to cough. _Alright; it's time to do the deed._

Silently, he crept up to the cockpit. He strained his ears, curious to know what they were saying. He heard one voice pitch, and he pressed himself against the wall, waiting, listening. After a few moments, heart pounding, he turned into the cockpit area.

Silverhawk's form was knelt on the floor next to the pilot seat, her face buried in her arms and lap of the Warlock pilot. He could only just make her out, and started to get confused. he shoulders moved up and down, and now that he was closer, it sounded as if she were... crying? But why? He crouched down next to the wall, leaning in and trying to listen.

"...your fault. It's none of ours. If you're going to blame someone, blame Certech, for making this stupid disease in the first place." Martin's voice said softly. His hand was on the Hunter's back. Silverhawk's initial reply was muffled an incoherent, but then she lifted her head.

"None of this would be happening if Westley had never found me." she sobbed. "Flint is right; all I do is kill. I'm killing everybody, and I didn't even touch them. She's going to die because of me!"

"Heather Chancellor, don't you _dare_ say anything like that again!" The voice of the Hunter's ghost suddenly roared, surprisingly loud for someone so small. "Do you know how long I spent looking for you? Nearly four centuries! Sometimes, I almost gave up, looking for a dead Guardian; but I knew, someday I'd find you, and I did! _Four centuries_! And if you had never been revived, where would Martin be right now? Where would I? Slaughtered by the first Hive he encountered? Hanging from the belt of a Fallen as a prize? And Jimmy Flint is a bag of-of-of _thrall spit_! And so is anyone who thinks the same thing!"

"You do realize you just called Uldren a bag of thrall spit, right, West?" the Hunter sniffed with weak mirth. Unable to listen any longer, Uldren shakily stepped back, his heart pounding even heavier than before. He tried to go silently, but in his shaky haste, every step sounded like a thunderclap.

He fumbled to put his knife away, and to set the rag back as he found it. His breath rattle in his throat, but he refused to cough, and he felt like his whole being was getting torn apart an sewn back together like a quilt a five-year-old had made out of old shirts.

 _Silverhawk's not a murderer._ The words kept resonating through him, the only thought in his mind. Still shaking, he hurried into one of the "rooms"(more like closets, really) on the _Timey-Wimey_ , and locked the door. Immediately, he sunk down, back against the wall, trying to process what he had just witnessed.

 _She's not a murderer. She's not a murderer. She didn't fail on purpose. Who's Jimmy Flint? She's not a murderer..._ She had, in fact, seemed _momentously_ upset about killing, failing, and being the monster that she was. It just didn't fit.

 _If you had the most powerful weapon in the universe, why wouldn't you use it?_ Silverhawk could kill every enemy of the City a thousand times, just by touching them. Why not use that skill? Why not-

He pictured Silverhawk being used against the Reef, and then he understood. A shudder of terror ran down his spine, and he let out a small whimper against his will. _Because; the most powerful weapon in the universe...it would be_ horrifying _._ Was that horror the reason she wasn't used for her true purpose? Did the Vanguard _really_ know about the viper in disguise as a simple, garden snake?

 _I was wrong._ He admitted to himself; an effort that took no small amount of pain to his pride. _I was wrong about her._

 _But that doesn't mean I won't kill her if I ever see her at the Reef; I_ swear _, if she ever goes anywhere_ near _my sister-_

His thoughts crashed at that point as he realized; he _wouldn't_ be seeing Silverhawk again, and within the next week or so, his sister would be dead. He buried his face in his knees.

The emotionless mask of Uldren Sov rarely cracked. This was one of those few times it ever would.

 ** _"Putting it simply; our extraction was_** **not** ** _as smooth as I had hoped it would be, and everyone was pretty much doomed."_**

* * *

 **Whoooo-whoooo! All aboard the feels train! Who do you feel the MOST sorry for in this chapter? Uldren's feeling all-around awful right now; you know, impending death of his sister and, you know, everyone else. Silverhawk's ten levels of messed up, crying into her best friend's lap and everything(you know things are bad when the most cheerful character is sobbing uncontrollably). Martin's probably feeling a bit low himself as well.**

 **As Uldren said; everyone's doomed. And does anyone else find it inconvenient that Uldren isn't on the list of characters you can put up under your fanfic summary? It just says "crow", which is horrifically inaccurate; it could mean any one of Uldren's Crows. Like, how do we fix that?**

 **And the prince of Thrall spit finally sees the light! Pun not intended(not)! Hawky's no murderer, silly crow! She's just a poor, poor, misunderstood creature of exotic beauty who happens to see life a very different way than you do. She's all sunshine and sarcasm and unicorns eating sparkles and pooping rainbows while you're all "I hate the world go away I don't care about the stupid freaking Black garden go die in a hole I hate you."**

 **Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant: Don't worry; it's not going to be one-sided. Martin's just really, really, hopelessly transparent. Peppermint...well, I was originally going to have her show up at the tower, in the next chapter, but I decided that three chapters was too long to wait for Uldren to get bit by a cat. And Silverhawk IS a literally bringer of death and doom; she's just a very cheerful, sometimes naïve one who prefers to look on the positive side of things in order to escape her dark past. That's a close one on her origins, but not quit it; she happened naturally. 100% free-range Silverhawk, through and through; no genetic enhancements, no preservatives(unless you count the frozen river). That** ** _was_** **one of the possible origins I had for her, but a scrapped it for something more tragic. The Scoutships? Well, in my head they just look like a big ugly 'Y'/'T' shape. Emphasis on 'ugly', ramshackle-looking, like most things fallen. By the way; Cabal Warship. EXPLODING. Rumors have it the new fall DLC will involve the Cabal somehow... big, epic, invasion-type situation. I think I know what's going to trigger it, if I decide to extend that far... Possible, but unlikely. I have basic plot laid out(ironically, I started out winging it with this fic) through** ** _The Taken King_** **, and I can't imagine this series continuing with Uldren preoccupied like that; you know, the Queen is dead, he's the only heir. You get how that works. He may be a big, horrible, jerk, but really, I don't think the series could continue without him. That being said, that means I can TOTALLY get away with killing him off! If I decide not to continue, anyway.**

 **MaybeALittleBroken: in my professional opinion; this human is dead. Time of death...irrelevant. Species...well, I said 'Human', but ,also, irrelevant. Cause of death...unknown. Just dropped in front of her computer, right on the keyboard; by the time they got there, the search bar was full of so much gibberish, it blew up the OS. Non-recoverable data. Perhaps if I ask the body...what killed you?**

 **FANFICTION!**

 ***has heart attack, dies***

 **By the way, YAY! Reviews! But what DID kill you? Was it the un-tethered immaturity, the childish early errors of plot progression, the succulently long chapters, or my now over-stoked ego?**

 **By the way, folks; just one or two more chapters left! Oh goody!*rubs hands together* I can't WAIT to see how many people** ** _actually_** **leave a complimentary review to say how much they enjoyed reading this fic! Cuz so far, I've had practically zilch, aside from those few*hugs* who answered my desperate pleas. I LIVE off of feedback; 'tis my lifeblood, my inspiration. If you think this fic is disinteresting...well, tell me what will fix that!**

 **'Cept if it's more action and drama you're after. I've already got action and drama like you wouldn't believe. And it ain't for this fic.**

 **Let's just say; I'm going to leave a little present for you all at the end of the final chapter...**

 **mau ha ha.**

 **And boy, those of you who scoff at this fic now are SUUUURE gonna regret it when we move into** ** _The Taken King_** **... epicness and drama at the highest levels. And LOTS of Martenj moments. Speaking of ships, who would you ship with who(if you don't say Martenj, I will hunt you down and DESTROY yo-)? Is CrowHawk a possibility to you? Thoughts on Martenj? Chancellon(Martin/Silverhawk)? Be warned, though; there will eventually be a third party joining the fun, and a relationship with Silverhawk looks, at this point, to be slightly likely. Then again; at this point, I'm also considering making her like Uldren; no love interests, no ships, except with possible insanity added to the mix.**

 **What do you think? Should I ship our little bird of prey? Or is she too weird for anyone?**

 **(Gosh, ships are the last thing I thought I'd be talking about three years ago)**

 **Next Time: All hope is lost, Cayde-6 gives us an overview of just** ** _how_** **doomed we are, and hope is** ** _literally_** **burned.**

 **Cheers!^^**


	12. Good Bad Luck

**_"_** ** _Okay, so idiot number two told the City we failed ahead of our arrival. As you can imagine, the whole place stank of depression. And, well, just regular_** **stank** ** _."_**

"Hi." Cayde greeted flatly as the ramp lowered, revealing the three failures.

"Sorry, Cayde." Silverhawk said as she descended the ramp. She didn't look like she had been crying, to give her credit. "You should have chosen someone else."

She limped past him, making a be-line for the stair that led out of the Tower Hanger. Uldren snorted.

"Gee, you think? This whole mission was a disaster." He glared at the exo. "I told you that if we failed, it would be on your head. You chose the wrong Guardians, exo. Everything that happens now, is because of your absolutely idiotic decision."

"Shut up."

He whirled around sto face the Warlock, who cringed under the full force of his anger. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said, 'shut up.'" his voice was suprisingly clear considering his current situation. "This whole mission, you've been nothing but rude and negative. I dare say we did a good job of putting up with it, but that's enough. We failed; we get it. So just...shut up."

Without waiting for the shell-shocked Uldren to respond, Martin followed the departing hunter without another word, head hung low. _Did that cowardly idiot just_ dare _-grow a backbone? Did he just?_

"Well, that's new. And, seeing as you'll be dead in a couple of weeks, I'm not really in danger when I say I have to agree with him." Cayde shrugged, before turning tail and walking off after his fellow Guardians. Uldren stood there, shocked that any of them would dare talk to him that way.

 _What the heck is going on here?_ He had learned to expect a certain disrespect from the two idiots, but nothing on that level.

 ** _"Venj handled impending doom nicely. I would, at this point, recomend that she be re-enstated, on the basis of her preformance during the crisis, and authorize her to be added to the chain of crisis command- and that information about this addition to our emergancy chain be kept secret in regaurds to several protocols I think her grace may find...interesting in concept, once I have them drawn up."_**

"Looks like you got a rep with Guardians, Prince Uldren." came a familiar voice. He turned to see Petra standing a few meters away. She walked up to him, giving a small bow. "I dare say, that Martin's got a few suprises up his sleeves."

"What?" he scoffed. "Like becoming a comeplete lunatic the moment he picks up a machine gun?"

"Well, that and, his glasses are...kind of cute." she admitted almost shyly. Uldren raised an eyebrow. _PLEASE don't tell me she's actually attracted to that wierdo Warlock._

"They're held together with ductape and he screams like a girl at the first sign of danger. Literally." he pointed out. Petra shrugged, glancing at the floor. When she looked back at him, her single eye critisized his appearance.

"You look like you spent a week in a Hive pit." she commented.

"I _feel_ like I spent a week in a Hive pit." he rasped.

"Infirmary's full; they got a place specially for the wounded up near the Guardian's Hall. You might want to get that arm checked out." she told him, tipping her head in the direction the three Guardian's had gone in.

"Who cares about the cut; we're all going to die." he said, walking past her.

"Not neccisarily; we may have been infected, but there were dozens of Guardians-Hunters, mostly-and at least near that many Crows out on patrols or assignments when the quarentine order went out. And don't forget all the exos who are here-"

"It won't matter." he snapped, turning on her. "I pulled some information out of a Fallen on Venus; there was no time to tell you. The disease is just the first punch; the final blow is coming soon. The new House of Wolves seems to be heading the march. It will be Twilight Gap and the Reef Wars all over again, except this time, we won't come out on top; _they_ will, and there's nothing we can do."

Petra stood there, stunned, blinking at him. _Here we are, facing unavoidable doom._ He thought. Her gaze harded. She faced the stairs, jaw set, determination etched across her face.

"There's one thing we can do, Prince Uldren." She siad feircly, looking at him. "We _make them_ remember us."

She made for the exit with a renewed haste, and he speed-walked after her, exasparated. _What is_ with _these people? Don't they get it? The end of the world is coming-again-and there nothing we can do to stop it! Yeah, we're all going to die; so how 'bout we accept it and move on with our lives-I mean, deaths. last days of civilization, we've all got places to be..._

The thought of Mara, dieing in her bed, while he was sitting in an infirmary with a silly little cut and some malnourishment made him want to rip the Tower to peices and magically teleport back to the Reef. He cursed that Petra was too loyal to let him suffer until their return to the Reef; he doubted she would allow it, if he suggested it.

"Oh, and how are we going to do that; they barly care about their history! Variks and his Judgment nerds are the only ones who ever have." he exclaimed.

"They aren't nerds; and that was supposed to be an inspiring, epic line, and in my head there was dramatic music in the background, but mostly I'm just saying we should get revenge while we're still kicking, and maybe blow some stuff up." she told him as they climbed up the stairs. Uldren's mucsles screamed in protest at the action.

"Like what?" he asked. "They're going to use every Ketch they have to come at us and the City."

"Well, isn't it lucky that we happen to know what equats to an exprt on blowing up Ketches?" the emisary pondered wryly as they made it to the top. Uldren felt the blood drain from him.

"You don't mean-Petra, she blew up _one_ Ketch! You blew up at least-" she cut him off with a look, and he realization dawned on him. "-at least eleven. In a row. At age eighteen. I'm going to stop talking now."

"No, no; keep the praise coming. It's not every day royalty compliments my pyrotechnics work." as they continued on, Uldren noticed how empty the halls seemed; not even a frame in sight. In fact, the only other person he had seen was just a small glimpse of a blond womanon one of the upper platforms.

They walked in silence for the rest of the way to the Guardian's Hall. The silence was as loud as a ship engine. When they came into a large courtyard, which overlooked the city, the whole area seemed dull, and abandoned. The broken Traveler hung low in the distant center of the Last City soon to be no more, it's gray frame blending in with the all-around depressing overcast sky.

 _This place is the epitome of depressing._ A lound bleep over the intercomms made both of the awoken jump, and when Cayde-6's voice came, it's amplified tines could faintly be heard from far below. The last Vanguard was adressing the whole City.

"Hello." He began solomnly. "Guardians. Citizens of the Last City. You all know who I am; at least, I hope you do. I've been chattering your ears off every other day for about a week now. Wait, no; four, five days. Yeah. That's when Zavala got sick. Now, you might also remember, that's when a team, comprised of two, healthy Guardian, working in conjunction with Prince Uldren of the awoken, set off to follow leads on a potential cure."

The two of them listened, thoughts for nothing else, than to hear the exo's announcement with the same solomnety that the rest of the City's inhabitants were. _You know, this is actually worse than the actually failing part of the failure._ All across the City, and the Tower, people stopped everything they were doing, and listened; perhaps with tears in their eyes, perhaps with the same feeling of completely shattering that Uldren had had when at first presented with impending death.

"Now, their search took them to Venus, a small splinter team of Crows even went to Mars, to draw out the Fallen Ketch where the disease originated from. Eventually, a few hours ago, they arrived here. On earth, to retrieve the equation that would cure this disease." Cayde was silent for a few moments, pehaps gathering himself. "Well...they failed."

Uldren swore, he could hear the gasps, the wails, and the groans of mourning that had to rising up out of every living being in the City right now.

"A combination of Fallen interference and...human error resulted in the destruction of the cure." his voice, though still solomn, grew harder. "Now, we aren't all dead yet, an until we are, life will continue as normal. Well, as normal as it can be. But...there will be some new rules. As of now, the City is on permantent quarentine. No exos, Guardian or civilian, will leave the City. All healthy or exo Guardians will remain on watch at the City walls, or otherwise join as peacekeeping force to respond to any riots that my ensue, regardless of class, subclass career, or gender. And while I say peacekeeping force, I-we-hope that everyone will remain civilized in our final hours. The only ships that will be leaving, will be those of the awoken who-who participated in the search for the cure. Those who try to interfere with their departure will be dealt with harshly, and accordingly. All healthy citizens will be escorted to a small settlment just outside the southern Wall. If one falls ill, an exo team will escort them back to the City."

"Now," his voice grew choked,"to all those Ghosts, and those of you fellow exos...we will keep this tower. We will keep this watch. No Ghost will leave, no exo will leave. One year from now, if this City, and the Traveler, still stands, we will undergo a mass decontamination of both the City, and ourselves. Those Guardians who were outside the City when the quarantine was ordered, will remain just so. To those Guardians, the ones who can hear this, I urge you, whether you be Hunter or Titan or Warlock; seek each other out. Seek out the few Reef Crows that were gone when the disease came. From here on out, the strength of the City is no longer behind you, you only have each other. Right now, you will be receiving an encrypted location via your Ghosts. They will...lead you to where we think it would be safest to rebuild, if those of us who are still kicking can't hold the fort. There should be enough of you left to preserve our way of life. Look, I know it's ironic, coming from me, but...don't take risks. We an't afford to lose you."

"Well,"he heaved, and there was the sound of the exo clapping his hands together ,"that seems to be about it. We're all doomed, those few who were outside the City are our only hope of preserving humanity-and awoken-ways of life, and within a year the rest of you will finally be as miserable as I am. Absolutely *****ing-fantastic. Sorry, children, but I've had a long day."

With that, the intercom bleeped again, and the exo's voice was gone, and through the new silence, both of them could hear the wailing that was rising up from the City below them. It was Silverhawk who had lost the cure. So why all the sudden did Uldren feel a new, gut-wrenching guilt tearing out his insides? _Silverhawk. It's Silverhawk's fault. It's her fault;_ she _failed them, not me. They're not my problem._

For some strange reason, this didn't make him feel better. He exchanged a glance with Petra. His sister's emissary looked absolutely heartbroken, and she looked at him with this weird kind of sympathy. He scoffed, and then strode towards the stairs that led down into the floor of the courtyard, from which the sounds of people could be heard, and the words "Guardian's Hall" could be seen carved over the arch. He heard Petra let out a sigh, and vaguely registered her following him.

His wounds hurt now more than ever before, and when he took a quick glance a his am, it was too see that the bandage was soaked with blood; a particular detail that was likely adding to the exhaustion that weighed his entire being down. His bitten and scratched hand(curse that Peppermint!) was throbbing beneath the bandages, and he had the uncanny feeling that the bullet graze to his leg was now considerably bigger and nastier-looking, considering how it felt. That wasn't even accounting for the possibility of the bruised ribs he probably had, what with being slammed into the backs of ships and and crashing Sparrows and falling from unmeasurable heights he had done in the past few days.

 _Two days._ He realized with a shock. It had only been, what? Four, six hours since he had been dropped off the top of that building? But it felt like a lifetime ago. Silverhawk and Martin's idiotic display, and the agonizing trip to Venus that had followed, felt like another life entirely. The exploding Ketch and Silverhawk's revelation...he'd only thought her and Martin to be murderers for three, maybe four hours, when it head felt like he'd been glancing over his shoulder for the whole trip.

 _Why is time so messed up?_ Or was he just delirious from blood loss, dehydration, and, most importantly of all, lack of proper sleep? It took extra focus for him to make it down the stairs without falling asleep or just plain and simple collapsing. He could hear Petra behind him, and could almost literally _feel_ her scrutinizing gaze piercing the back of his skull. The angry yell from below that made them both jump was almost welcome, if only to snap him out of the state of delirium he had slowly been giving way to. Curiosity took over driving him forwards.

"WHAT!?" the angry female voice exclaimed. "HEATHER CHANCELLOR, WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT GALLIVANTING AROUND WITH A BROKEN LEG!?"

The two awoken looked at each other, Petra's gaze sharpening, though she would never dare to say out loud what her eye was saying. _Broken leg? What?_ He shrugged.

"Don't look at me; I didn't notice a limp." he stated simply, before descending the last of the steps and entering the Hall, which was roughly line with beds, some of which sported wounded Guardians. Silverhawk was among them, Martin sitting on the bed next to her with his arms crossed and looking very peeved at her, with a green-plated, golden-eyed female exo waved a micro-splint at the Hunter reprimandingly. Said Hunter didn't even have the grace to look ashamed at whatever crime she had committed, which seemed to have something to do with the fact that he left leg was stretched out, exposed on the bed, ugly bruises darkening the skin.

"I was not 'gallivanting around.'" she protested. "I was doing something very important. Something that really couldn't wait a month for my leg to heal. Again."

"You should have at least said something!" Martin fretted. "When have I ever not told you when _I_ was injured?"

"Um, Martin, that's different. You groan like you've been mortally wounded whenever you get a paper cut." Silverhawk countered pointedly. The exo doctor put the micro-splint on the floor with an exasperated sigh, and then made a grab for Silverhawk's injured hand.

"And where did _this_ one come from?" she demanded, pointing at the wound.

"Uhhh…miniature volcanic eruption?" Silverhawk tried. The doctor glared at her. "Wire rifle?"

"Bed, there, wait." The exo commanded, pointing to Uldren and then to one of the unoccupied bed without looking up from her current patient. _Right; demanding doctor. Got it._ He was too tired to even glare at Martin as he passed, and eased himself onto the mattress.

"And, don't tell me; _this_ one came from an army of fire ants that you happened to land on!" the exo's voice seethed. Uldren closed his eyes, trying to block them out.

"Actually, that one came from the—" Silverhawk stopped mid-sentence, and the Prince welcomed the peace. _Finally, I'll get some_ real _sleep…_

"What the…" the voices said distantly."…No way."

He was almost there...

"NO FREAKING-ABSOLUTLY-WAY!" Silverhawk's scream jerked him out of the nearing dream of sleep. Startled, he sat up to glare at her. She was sitting bolt upright, and was sliding off the end of her bed, her injured hand held up to her face excitedly, as if her wrist sported some sort of sudden exotic-ness.

"Silverhawk! Get back on this bed RIGHT NOW!" the exo yelled angrily, making a grab for the Hunter. But Silverhawk was already limping towards the nearest water fountain was fast as her leg would let her. Martin hopped of his bed, and Petra, who was standing at the entrance, only watched the spectacle looking unsure as to what she was supposed to be doing in this kind of situation.

"Martin, come here!" the Warlock had already been going after her.

"What is it? You really should stay off that leg." He insisted. Too tired to watch or care, but too curios to go to sleep anymore, Uldren just sat there as Silverhawk used the knee of her bad leg(much to the chagrin of the doctor) to turn on the fountain, and began to rub the blood off her injured wrist.

 _What is that idiot doing now?_ He thought blearily as Petra slowly joined them.

"Martin, look." Silverhawk said, pressing part of her cloak to what appeared to be a burn and then holding it up to the light. "What does that look like to you?"

"Silverhawk, it looks like a bunch of biology gibberish, wh— WHAT THE WHAT! NO WAY!" the Warlock exclaimed partway through his comment. Petra leaned in closer.

"What is it?" Silverhawk held her arm out in the awoken's direction. Uldren saw the brow of her covered eye crease in confusion. "What the?"

Uldren let out a sigh, and pushed himself off the bed. _Might as well see what has them so worked up. Maybe they'll shut up if I indulge them…_

"Alright; what the heck is so darn _fascinating_ about your dumb burn?" he sneered as he approached. Silverhawk turned her wrist around excitedly, revealing an angry red patch on her wrist…where several strange symbols stood out, redder than the rest, branded onto her skin. Symbols like…

 _…_ _Like an equation._

It was the cure!

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Silverhawk announced, arms raised in the air victoriously, holding her injured hand out higher. "I have the cure!"

* * *

Cayde-6 burst back into the comms room, booting off a very shocked operator. He fumbled with the mic excitedly, nearly dropping it before turning it on.

"You know what, everyone just disregard that last one; thanks to some very good bad luck on part of a third degree burn, _we have the cure_!"

Wails of grief turned into howling cheers, as husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, cousins and nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles and mothers and fathers and sons and daughters all embraced, all cried all laughed; all celebrated being alive.

Cayde sat back, satisfied that that was all he needed to say.

* * *

 ** _"Turns out, putting that canister on a volcano was a pretty good idea."_**

 ***Zelda victory medley* I had you there for a moment, didn't I? Nope, this was always going to end this way. No, this is not the last chapter; we still have to see Uldren's send off from Silverhawk and Martin! There is NO way this dysfunctional fireteam of theirs can separate peacefully. In fact, that's what I've decided to name this little AU of mine; The Dysfunctional Fireteam Universe. Because really, that's exactly what they are. Really, the only reason I've posted early is because A)I'm too excited to keep this chapter to myself anymore, and B) I just wanted to tell you what I named this AU.**

 **Oh, and I totally forgot to celebrate hitting the 50,000 words mark last chapter. In fact, Last chapter was so long, I almost hit the 60,000 words mark! Though, to be honest, about roughly 5,000 of those words are authors notes, but in my word document, I've reached 60,000, including the last chapter. So...**

 **Happy 60,000 words to me, I guess! *Blows kazoo***

 **Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant: CrowHawk was going to be the original ship of this, when I first started imagining this idea. Unfortunately, Silverhawk can never have children; the radiation that gave her her 'powers' totally messed her up on the inside. If she's ever going to be a mom, they would have to be adopted. Of course, she'd be a terrible mother, considering she like a big kid herself. And at this point, the only thing that would make CrowHawk possible, would be mortal injury on the part of Uldren, and about six more installments of this fic for that ship to work properly. That third party I mentioned will come into play after 'book' two, and we're going to be talking childhood crushes then; it's hard to compete with that kind of pre-existing relationship. Chancellon was going to be a thing, until I suddenly decided that Martenj would be the cutest couple ever. To better explain Silverhawk's deathtouch; basically, if it's alive, it dies the moment it touches her bare skin. She was the only one to survive the experiments, because of her unique genetic makeup, and that past will be touched upon(no pun intended) in the future of this series, and I don't I'm in any danger of spoilers when I tell you that that will be a very Martin-centric adventure. But there is more explination in the next chapter, just for you. As for Mara and Eris...well, if we don't find out enough information in time for me to incorporate those particular canon elements into this fic, then I'll continue as is; whatever they're planning, Uldren is clueless, and something super-evil is coming. Again. I have a hunch their plan has** ** _something_** **to do with that Proto-Hive thingy, personally. And though this series will incorporate things from canon, a lot will be changed because of Uldren's "interference" with the canon events. Lets just say, things are going to get interesting when Oryx comes along; we'll have a vengeful prince and all of known civilization baying for his blood, and we can all see how impulsive Silverhawk is... Hence why I labeled this fic as an AU.**

 **MaybeALittleBroken: I'm glad to have save you the trouble of lawsuit*bows sloppily* and I am honored that you hold this fic in such high respects. Unfortunately, the time is coming soon for me to kill you again, as I use my summers to write my heart out, and then I post over the school year to keep the fans off my back and make more room for homework. Warning; I'm leaving you with a big one to stew over over the summer. Rest assure you, the sequal WILL be a juicy one, filled with drama, and action, and(most importantly of all), explosions and Silverhawk being an all-around total butt-kicker. And if you think THESE feels are bad...if you could see what I've planned in my head for** ** _The Taken King_** **...**

 **This Is Sarcasm: Hehe, yeah I just couldn't resist with that one. Chapter four was like, the hardest for me to write; I had just gone through the Black Garden story again, with my Warlock, and I just couldn't help but put Uldren through some serious grief.**

 **As for the timeline, I think it's time I addressed it a little; Crota, at this point, is recently defeated. However, the Black Garden is happening in real time, as Uldren is recording his report. As of this night, on which he tell us of his mission, it has been approximately a month since all of this actually happened. He's just re-accounting everything that happened. You all know Martin was at the Reef again already, with the Gatelord Eye, as was mentioned a few chapters ago in Mara's little interruption of her brother's work. Sepiks Prime has already been taken care of as well, by the same Guardians who defeated Crota(we'll be meeting them in the next part of our adventure). Uldren's report takes place LONG before** ** _The Taken King_** **; by roughly nine, maybe ten months, to be exact. The disease was only the beginning of what is mapped out to be a very long, very trying year for all these characters, and we'll be seeing some dramatic changes in all of them as the story goes on.**

 **Of course, if the new DLC really IS about the Cabal...well, lets just say, whatever changes Silverhawk goes through in this year of chaos, She'll pretty much revert to what she is in this fic; COMPLETELY out of control, and pretty much crazy. Man, the guy she ends up with is going to get gray hair early, that or they'll fall apart magnificently because she's too stubborn to give up her dangerous ways.**

 **Okay, so, in honor of coming up on the final chapter next time, I'm going to ask you all an old question...**

 **Review Challenge(Yup; theeeeey're BACK!): Type the most ridiculous things you can think of into the review box. The best lines will go in the last chapter(aka, the next update for this fic), and be scattered throughout the next story featuring Silverhawk and our favorite dysfunctional fireteam.**

 **Next Time: The Dysfunctional Fireteam parts ways, Uldren wraps up his report, and jinxes himself horribly in the process.**

 **Cheers!^^**


	13. Report Closed

**When ends marked new beginnings...**

 ** _"_** ** _Anyway, after that, that exo doctor, (Terra-27, I think her name was) got a bunch of nerds together, and the cure was being distributed by the end of the day. Just in time for that Vanguard."_**

 ** _"_** ** _An pretty soon, a whole load of the stuff was on its way to the Reef as well."_**

"Get those crates strapped down!" Terra-27 yelled at the dock workers. " I want this cure out and on its way to the Reef by sunrise!"

"The _Cirrus_ is ready to depart already, Terra." Petra told her. "We're just waiting on the Prince."

"He will _not_ be leaving this Tower until I'm done with him; he was displaying early symptoms, and he might as well be in a coma, what with all the sleep he needs." The exo snapped. "Honestly, what was he thinking, running around with a cut like that…"

 ** _"_** ** _Needless to say, I was held hostage at the Tower for the next three days, until Petra came back for me. By then, my sister was already on her way to recovery."_**

 ** _"_** ** _As for Silverhawk; her and that other idiot made their escape shortly before I did."_**

Uldren, after three days rest, already felt-and looked- as good as new; he'd even taken the time to even out his new haircut(which he was still supremely pride-hurt about) a little. he was now clad in new Crow armor, and he hoped it would last longer than his last set. He'd been assured that the cut on his arm(which he now regretted causing very much) would leave a very prominent scar, as would the bullet wound on his leg. He still felt horrifically sore, but the bruises from all the falls he had taken were finally starting to fade, and the "fishy smell" from the river, as well as the lingering stench of fire, were gone. Needless to say, beeing stuck in the same ward as Silverhawk and her partner had been close to torture for him; he was just glad she wasn't mobile- _Oh, crud._

He'd just _had_ to go there, didn't he?

Silverhawk and Martin were creeping along the docks, and he caught a glimpse of their forms passing between two crates. The Cirrus had returned to pick him up, Petra bringing with her the best news he had heard all week; the Queen was recovering. The emissary walked beside him now, and they had just been discussing the victims the cure had been too late for. They both froze when they saw the two Guardians, and shared a look.

"Was that who I think it was?" Petra asked.

"I hope not." Uldren answered with a shutter. "I am _never_ working with Guardians again."

Petra approached the boxes, and he reluctantly followed after her. She peeked over the edge.

"Terra-27 is so going to kill you." she commented. Martin rose from behind the box sheepishly. Silverhawk popped up alongside him, grinning idiotically like she always was. The two of them were, once more, clad in Guardian armor, not dissimilar to what they had been wearing at the start of their journey.

Silverhawk's bad hand and wrist were still covered in bandages, though there was no visible splint on her leg. Another micro-splint, perhaps? The cut on her cheek sported stitches, and she'd traded her blue cloak for a black one that had the Hunter symbol stitched in gray all along the edges.

Martin was wearing his original outfit, minus the torn-to-shreds red robes. The bandages on his arm had been downgraded, revealing a little more of that particular roadburn. His glasses, it seemed, had been repaired, the bridge now sautered instead of tapped. It looked as if this hadn't been the first time, either.

"Well, I'd rather die of infection than boredom." Silverhawk chirped. Her hidden gaze fell on Uldren, and her smile grew. "Well, well, well; look who's abandoning us. So soon, and without a goodbye?"

"Oh, yeah; really hurtful." Martin said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "He threatened to kill you. Twice."

"Three times, actually; when we first met." Silverhawk added pointedly, waving a hand to Petra. "You remember, Petra? Tried to stab me through with a throwing knife?"

"Yeah; I remember." Petra said flatly. Uldren wished she hadn't been there to hold him back. He glared at the two Guardians.

"Let me make this clear; I. Don't. Care. About either of you. In fact, I never want to see your faces again. I'm going to put as much distance as possible between us." Petra looked somewhere between concerned and shocked, while Martin looked just a little apprehensive, and Silverhawk just frowned."We may have been allies, but no longer. We are not friends, and never will be. Don't ever contact me, don't even bother coming within a twelve-mile radius of me. As for goodbye, I've never like the sound of any word in my entire life more. Goodbye."

And with that, he strode off towards the Cirrus. He heard Martin mutter something behind him, but didn't care; he was finally free of Silverhawk, and he couldn't be happier.

 ** _"But I still think Petra has a_** **thing** ** _for that Warlock, though; we might want to keep an eye on her because of that. If the City ever interferes with Reef business, it could be a problem for her, loyalty-wise."_**

"Talk about tough love." Martin commented sarcastically. "Here I was thinking he'd _enjoyed_ getting dropped of buildings and falling off Sparrows and getting shot at by Fallen."

"Well, he's said his bit; I got a few things to say to him as well!" Silverhawk huffed indignantly. She limped around the crate, and ran after him. "Well excuuuse me, princess! You didn't have to be so..."

Her voice was drowned out by the hyraulic sounds of the hangar as Uldren turned his head to glare at her as she caught up with him. He continued on, seemingly ignoring her chatter, as he descended the stairs down to the landing pads, where the open _Cirrus_ was waiting. Petra turned to Martin.

"Well, what _are_ you two doing out here? Silverhawk's leg is still healing, isn't it?" she questioned. The Warlock came out from behind the crate, and they slowly began to make their way to the stairs. He ducked his head shyly as he talked.

"Well, like she said; it's boring around here. Not that I have anything against peace and quite, mind you; sometimes I wish she was a Titan, or fellow Warlock, you know? She's a Hunter; she's just got this, _urge_ , to never stay in one place more than a few seconds." he let out a nervous chuckle."You know, one time she tried to get me to help her explore the Exclusion Zone; that's what she was doing when we got called in by Cayde for this whole thing. If I'd known what we'd be doing on this mission, I'd go back and time and beg her that we get on Mars as soon as possible."

Petra chuckled."You really aren't one for danger, are you?"

"I'm lover; not a fighter." face growing redder, he added hastily,"A-and when I say 'lover', I, uh, I mean books, not people. N-not that I don't love people, I just, don't uh, y-you know know what, I-I'm going to stop talking now."

Petra merely laughed, growing red in the face herself, while the Warlock hid his own face behind one hand, shoulders hunched embarassingly.

 ** _"Now, I have no love for either of those idiots, but even I have to admit; watching Terra-27 go after them the way she was...let's just say, it was a fitting exit, for both of them."_**

"Well excuuuse me, princess! You didn't have to be so _rude_ about it!" Silverhawk called after him. He turned only to glare at her, and then continued on, ignoring her as he went down the steps.

"I get that you probably hate me, and that you're maybe a little scared of me, but there's no need to bring Martin into this!" she insisted behind him.

"Oh, that had nothing to do with you; it had everything to do with the both of you." he said calmly, letting every ounce of spite he had leak into his voice, not looking back at her and quickening his pace. "You're insufferable, and quite frankly, I fail to see how either you are still alive, what with all the idiotic things you keep doing."

"Idiocy is our trademark, and the enemy never expects it; what better way to fight than to shock the guys you're fighting?" they were on the docking floors now. Uldren turned on her, directing the full force of his glare at her.

"I still don't care. And don't you worry about you precious little secret; I'll keep it, only, and only, because you happened to save the day with dumb luck." he whirled around, and made for the lowered ramp of the Cirrus.

"You know I'd never hurt anyone, right?" Silverhawk's voice called after him. He stopped, remembering three days previously, the knife in his hand, the way he had been humbled; how close he'd come to making a _momentous_ mistake. For some reason, it sent chills down his spine. He shrugged the chills off. _It doesn't matter if I had killed her or not; we still would have found the brand on her wrist._ He'd told himself this about a million times already, but for some reason, it never helped. Helped what, exactly, he couldn't sense.

Perhaps it was because Silverhawk was, though his spiteful mind couldn't comprehend it, an innocent life that he had almost taken. Maybe, someday he would realize this.

But it most certainly not this day, and not any recent days to come.

"Yes. I know." he answered, turning to glare at her one, final time. "But if I _ever_ see you at the Reef, I will kill you without a second thought."

He turned his back without waiting for a reply, ready to put Silverhawk behind him once and for all. But fate had other plans in mind; he would turn to face her, one more time...

...as Terra-27 stormed down the stairs to the docks, raging.

"SILVER-HAWK!" She screeched. Martin, who was with Petra at the bottom of the stars, jumped.

"We've been had!" Silverhawk exclaimed. "Make for the ' _Wobbly_!"

With that, she whirled around, and Martin bade Petra a hasty, probably stuttered goodbye, before running, arms outstretched, for the _Wibbly-Wobbly_ , which was repaired and waiting a short distance from the _Cirrus_.

"GET BACK HERE!" the exo screamed, running past Petra. Uldren hastily made his way vback down the ramp, for some reason or another finding the occurance interesting. Silverhawk caught up with Martin quickly, despite her limp, and her Ghost zoomed ahead, pixelating as he approached the ship. The ramp lowered, and the two Guardians ran with renewed haste.

But Terra-27 was an exo; faster than both of them put together.

"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH US ALIVE, COPPERS!" Silverhawk yelled behind her. Though none could see it, here eyes widened as she cought sight of Terra-27 catching up to them at an extreme speed. She let out a yelp, and pushed Martin forwards, pressing him on. "AVOID CAPTURE FASTER, WITH THE ALL NEW CHEESE-IN-A-CAN; GOOD FOR ALL YOUR ANTI-MEDICAL PERSONNEL NEEDS!"

With that, she took something out of some pocket somewhere, pulled the pin on what looked to ba an old soupcan, and threw it behind her head. It's contents spilled out of the open lid, hitting Terra-27 in the face; it was cheese, looking to be cheddar or something. Petra burst out laughing, and Uldren couldn't resist snickering.

The exo let out a screech of rage, wiping cheese out of her eyes exasparatedly. She charged back at the two Guardians, but they had already made it to the Wibbly-Wobbly's ramp. Silverhawk stopped at the top, stuk out her tongue, and closed the ramp, makeing the "L" symbol above her forehead in the universal insult of "looser".

All the exo could do was rage outside their front door as the ship lifted off the ground, and left the hanger.

 ** _"Needless to say, I never wanted to see either of those two again. It was just bad luck on my part that Idiot number two was here earlier today."_**

"So, where to next, partner?" Silverhawk asked with a smirk. Martin stood next to her, Peppermint in his arms(the cat had somehow wondered onto the Wibbly-Wobbly), leaning againts the pilot seat. "Venus? Mars? The moon?"

"Actually, I've been feeling a little pasty." the Warlock told her. She nodded, grinning and setting in the coordinates.

"Mercury it is, then!" she chirped happily. Martin want pale, yelping.

"I was talking about Kiribati!"

 ** _"About the disease, how it was introduced to the Reef; well, I had a hunch, and it turned out to be correct."_**

 ** _"The awoken who the Fallen infected was a Crow; she had been following a trail of leads about some old shadow project Certech had been working on."_**

Uldren picked up the data pad; it had belonged to what was now confirmed to be the first Reef victim of the disease. A Crow named Himalay. She had spoken with the Queen shortly after returning from venus, reporting directly about a series of files that she had been following, supposedly about some kind of super weopon Certech had been working on.

Himalay had died shortly before the cure had arrived; as the direct carrier of the sickness, her death had been much quicker than anyone elses. The doctors estimated that her dose was three times bigger than that of the first Guardian victim, Emnett; the Fallen had had the need to do total overkill on thier first awoken victim.

But, apparently, the Crow had left something out of her conversation with the Queen; something this big couldn't be kept from her. Because, when he opened the most recent files, he found that she had come upon details about that super weapon. He sat down, looking them over, reading his Crow's personal notes along the way.

 **"Project Zero Initiative: Human Weopons Program"** , the Certech file was labeled. He read on, reading heavily redacted details about the project. So much was blacked, out he failed to see what had driven his Crow to go to such extreme lengths to find out more about it. Certain words she had circled, highlighted, and crossed off; she had clearly been close to putting the puzzle together, an intelligent operative all around.

Then, he came across two words, cricled and highlighted, in the middle of a completely redacted paragraph; **"Subject Zero"**. A line had been drawn, to a note scribbled on the side by the awoken.

"The little girl?" it read. Beneath it, she had listed a file name, perhaps to mark it as a direct reference. He typed it into the acces bar, and opened it. _An old video feed?_

He played it. It was sketchy, with snow flickering across the screen from time to time due to the age of the feed. It displayed a large, white room, with honeycomb patterns all along the wall, ceiling and floor. The camara got a high, angled veiw of a door just below it.

Suddenly, the door opened, and with it came the sounds of crying and screaming; a child in distress. A small figure was thrown into the room, with white, waist-length hair that was poorly kept, wearing a white blouse and caprise that to him, looked to be a little to small for her. She was sobbing panickedly, and screaming at whoever had put her in the room.

"Please! Please no! I don't-I- can't-don't-PLEASE! Don't make the pain come, don't make the pain come, PLEASE don't make the pain come!" she sobbed uncontrolably. 'Don't make me do it! Don't make the pain come!"

Uldren felt his insides squirm with dread. She could only be eleven, twelve, maybe; what pain was she talking about.

Suddenly, the camara retracted farther back into the wall, and though it remained fixed on the girl, some kind of protective sheild seemed to descend over the lense.

Then a lound, unpleasant whirring, buzzing sound came, and the girl collapsed to the floor, screaming an inhuman scream of agony. To be perfectly honest with himself, he had never been more disterbed in his entire life. _I suppose Silverhawk was right about one thing; Certech are monsters._

Who would do...whatever they were doing, to a perfectly innocent little girl like that? Thye screams died down, and she lay there, black veins pulseing along her neck and exposed arms and feet. Then, painfully, she lifter her head, looking up at the camara, which she knew to be there. Uldren felt like his brain stopped working the moment he saw her eyes.

The girl was human, but eyes burned sky blue...just like Silverhawk's. Now that he thought about it, her voice sounded vaugely familiar.

"Please...why do you do this? Why do you make me do this?" she wimpered painfully. She let her head fall to the floor once more with a pained groan, and the door opened. A man in a lab coat calmly walked over to her, a flower in one hand, a syringe in the other. he knelt down next to her without a word, and injected the syringe's contents into her without touching her. The girl wimpered again.

He pulled the needle out, and then touched the flower-a daisy- to her bare skin. After a few seconds, it began to shrivel up, blackening and withering. The scientist looked up at the camara frustratedly.

"Too high a dose. Death is delayed by approximatly three seconds. We need to take a few CCs next time." he reported. "Return subject Zero to cooldown. Set next Chronigenisis exposure for two months."

With that, he turned away, leaving the girl on the floor, and the feed cut. Uldren took a deep breath, trying to process what he had just seen. But the thing was, he couldn't. A few notes had been tagged along with the video, and he read them.

"Project Zero reports end before next test can be completed." one said. The next was circled.

"What happened to Heather Chancellor?" another file name listed. He didn't need to look at it; didn't need to know how or where Himalay had found the name, which Certech file she had found it in. It only confirmed what Uldren already knew to be true; Project Zero and Silverhawk were one in the same. This what what she had meant, by "they did things to me, to make me kill everything I touch."

She was made a weopon.

 _This report can never see the light of day._ he would try to put the rest of the peices together, to figure the rest out; but for now, he had a sister to look after. He hastily, shaking slightly, put the data pad into one of his desk drawrs, not trusting it in a fileing cabinant. He locked it, and left his room.

 ** _"But, it was just a bunch of cold leads and dead ends; nothing too important, just some old research on Earth wildlife."_**

 ** _"My sister had fully recovered within a few weeks, and my Crows are now comeing in with reports of Guardian sightings spiking all across the sytem. The last City's fighting force has fully recovered, or rather, at least most of it has."_**

 ** _"Oh! I almost forgot, the Fallen. Well, they still gathered up their fighting force. But, mysteriously enough, they met a terrible fate..."_**

The Captain was cackling wildly as the Dregs fought over the Sparrow they had scavenged from Venus before takeoff. It had just been sitting there, perfectly unguarded, and now his lower officers were attampting ro ride it and take it over at the same time.

Suddenly, it driffted rapidly towrds him, and he jumped up on a nearby crate, yelling at them as they slammed into it in the spot he had been standing just moments before. A peiced broke off of the vehicle, blinking red, and one of the Dregs bent down to pick it up. The Captain rushed him, taking the device and examining it, eyes widening with horror.

He shoved the other Dregs off the Sparrow, and flipped the vehicle over; all over the underside were many srange, similar devices, all blinking faster and faster by the moment. A peice of paper was tapped onto the underside as well, covered with protective plastic to preseve the message it carried. It was in human language, and he couldn't read it.

But if anyone who had been present at the time of Faroths debriefing on the disease's origins had seen the Sparrow, they would have identified the devices as his sud-nuclear charges, and they would have read the sign as:

"With love, Petra Venj."

The twenty-plus sub-nuclear bombs blew up the small fleet of tewlve Ketches, obliterating any their chances of taking the Last City, and detering the remaining forces from trying to attack the Reef.

 ** _"Petra still says she had nothing to do with it."_**

 ** _"But yeah, to sum it all up; the mission was long and grueling, I fell from unimaginable heights two more times than need by, I_** **wouldn't** ** _, at this point, agree to riding a Sparrow, even if it was life-or-death, and the entire mission was a complete failure; we're only alive today because of shear, dumb luck."_**

 ** _"And I swear, if I never have to work with another Guardian ever again, it will be too soon. Report closed, tag U-282376, C-G-2-3."_**

Uldren turned the recorder and camara off, and sat back in his chair with a sigh. he glanced at his clock; it was eight in the morning.

 _So much for "finishing my complaint before morning."_ Mara would be awake by now, he morning monster would be making it's appearance shortly. He got up, stretching. Strangly, he didn't feel tired.

He check himself over in a mirror, preparing to avoid his sister's early-moring wrath; the better groomed he looked, the more he had a chance of avoiding invoking her unreasonable anger. His hair had grown back some, and though his hair had always grown fast, it was nowhere near it's origninal length. He had decided to try a more space-pirat-y look, and see how that did for intimidation factor; he tried to keep most of it back in a pony tail; key word being "tried"; mostly it just looked like a sloppy mullet.

Mara was calling it a "grunge phase". Whatever _that_ ment.

He found his eyes wondering over towards the desk where he had locked away Himalay's report. From what he had gathered reading it, and all the files she had collected, the Crow had been hell-bent on finding out Heather Chancellor's fate. What would she have thought, if she had discovered Heather Chancellor walked among the Guardians, as a Hunter who called herself Silverhawk? It would certainly have led to the conclusion that Heather Chancellor died young; he had pieced this together drawn from both the fact that Martin and Silverhawk had been "raised together", and that the little girl had disappeared soon after the footage he'd seen. Taking a deep breath, he left his room and walked out into the world beyond.

* * *

He had been waiting in the throne room for about an hour now, waiting for his sister. There were several new Crow reports about the Vault of Glass that he wanted to talk to her in private about before releasing for reference. He let out a huff of breath from where he sat on the edge of the platform, waiting. _I hate it when she's late._ The throne room was used for audiences with the Queen, but she always came here first when her day started, no matter what. They met here every morning; it was a habit of the siblings'.

He thought back to a few days ago, when none other than Martin Anton had strode in here, looking like he might wet himself, asking for information on the Black Garden. Uldren had received a recent Crow report about the Garden gate's location, and his sister(much to his chagrin) had told the Warlock they would help if he retrieved a vex Gate Lord's head. Martin had looked like he might faint at that; especially once they had confirmed they meant "head" as in _literally_ , the thing's head.

None the less, he had arrived yesterday morning, wheeling the head of a Gate Lord behind him in a go-wagon. The Eye had been broken, devoid of all charge, but his sister had insisted it be given as a "gift, for his aid with retrieving the cure to the disease". The visit of the timid Warlock had prompted him to-finally-give his recorded report on the mission, with help from the camera he'd had in his pocket. Though, he had cut many things from the recorded data; things having to do with Silverhawk, his faking his death, and(most importantly of all) when he'd had to cut his un-repairable hair off. He'd blamed the missing data on damage to the device, and he'd hidden the report in the Crow file bank in a way-he hoped-would make it look indiscreet.

This had nothing to do with the secrets he'd brought back with him; it had everything to do with his pride. Because let's face it; he'd had a _lot_ of low moments during that mission, and if he'd cut them out, it would have looked suspicious to anyone who _did_ look at it.

 _You know what; forget this._ He's go hunt down his sister himself. He got up, stretching his legs, and made his way out of the throne room. _Maybe if I'm nice, she'll let me go back in the field to follow up on some of these Vault of Gl-_

A loud, roaring boom shook the air, the floor, his very body from somewhere outside the throne room. _WHAT THE HECK!?_ He ran, shoving the doors open, and into the Royal City; one of the many ruined, re-purposed Colony ships that the awoken made their homes in. Smoke rose close by, near the docks, people panicked and screamed all around him. He saw Petra in the crowd, and, terror pulsing through him as one thought crashed through his mind, he worked his way over to her. _Where's Mara?_ Those were the only words in his mind right now.

Petra Venj stood on a crate overlooking the crowd, trying in vain to establish order. Shoved and pushed by the running people, he called up to her.

"Petra!" he yelled as soon as he was next to the box. She looked down at him, and relief surfaced on her face. "Where's Mara?"

"Good, you're okay." Worry replaced her relief. "She was meeting with Variks or something, about some new information about the House of Wolves; it couldn't wait. They were...they were near the docks."

Panic exploded inside him. He tore off towards the docks, ignoring Petra's calls to return. All he knew, was that his sister could be injured; or worse. The running crowd thinned, and he coughed as he entered the fog-like dust from the explosion. _Where is she? Where is she?_

"Mara!" he called, searching the dust and the ground. "Mara!"

He saw a prone figure on the ground in the distance, near a wall of crates. He ran forwards, expecting the worst. Coughing and narrowing his eyes as he approached the figure, he saw that is wasn't his sister; it was Variks! He checked for a pulse. _Just knocked out; not dead._

A scream pierced the air, quickly muffled; but it was all he needed to recognize his sister's voice. _Mara!_ The sound of a ship's engines filled the air, and the dust of the explosion was blown away, forcing him to cover his eyes, coughing as the dust assaulted his lungs.

When he though it was safe, he looked up, to see a ramshackle ship shaped similarly to a Ketch, though smaller, lowering itself to the ground. And then he saw his sister, being dragged backwards at knife point, mouth covered and arms restrained by a man in full body armor. Uldren recognized the ship and the armor immediately. _Pirates! Della Tay!_

As soon as she saw him, his sister began kicking and struggling with renewed vigor, but the man who held her was too much larger, too much stronger.

"Get your dirty hands off my sister!" he roared, rushing at them, knife unsheathed. Something slammed into his head from behind the crates, and he fell to the ground, reeling. His vision blurred, he tried to get up, drifting somewhere between conscious and unconscious.

"Normally, I'd kill you, too. But my bounty only calls for one head this time." a female voice said. A pair of boots on the ground in front of him, walking away. He tried to force himself to stay awake. _This can't be happening!_

The ship's ramp lowered, his struggling sister pulled aboard, the figure that had hit him going with them. He forced himself to his feet, stumbling, shaking his throbbing head, trying to clear his vision. _No, no...no, just no!_

The ship lifted, the ramp closing. _Oh, no you don't!_ He staggered forwards, ears ringing, but it was already too late. The ship was leaving. He fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath, process the situation, blinking the stars out of his vision. _No. Mara's captured. No. This can' happen. How could this happen? What was Variks telling her? What could be so important? Did he find the new Kell? I recognize that seal._

The symbol on the ship. The seal of an assassin well-known for killing her marks in... _unique_ manners. What horrible death did she have planned for his sister?

There was another loud explosion, and the heavy, metal shield that was built to protect the Royal City in case of attack began to descend uncontrollably, the fiery burst coming from the main control center as the ship set out into the Reef beyond. At that moment, Uldren's body began taking over for his mind.

He leapt to his feet, staggering and still dizzy, and ran unevenly for the far end of the docks. The shielding doors were closing fast. He heard Petra behind him in the distance, yelling his name, but he ignored her. His vision honed in on a ship at the end of the docks; his ship, a newly-commissioned Ceres-Galiot, painted black and brown in the usual Crow colors. The doors stalled with a terrifying groan of metal.

Head swimming, he pressed the remote on his wrist, and the cockpit opened. He jumped into it, and closed it on the fly, starting the engines as the doors un-stuck on whatever blockage they had encountered and began to fall at renewed speed. _You,_ he thought angrily, _are NOT getting away from me!_

He did the ship equivalent of "flooring it", and _Nighthawk_ the second launched forwards with a speed that almost gave him whiplash. He clenched his teeth as the doors drew closer, almost closed. He shut his eyes as he realized he wasn't going to make it, only for a toothache-inducing scraping sound to rock the ship, which gave a heavy jerk instead of going up in a magnificent fireball like he had expected.

 _Huh. Faster than the old_ Nighthawk _, it seems._ He gripped the controls, setting his jaw and piercing the reef with his golden gaze. Out there, somewhere, a deadly, psychopathic assassin was planning to kill his sister in who-knows-what-way. He was going to find them, and he was going to get her back; no matter the cost.

He spotted the ship, there, weaving between the debris. He powered down the thrusters, vying to follow them at a distance, trying to remember everything he could about the notorious assassin, Della Tay. _Awoken, age 36, wanted for multiple homicides, killed the old Warlock Vanguard of the Last City by locking him in the Vault of Glass, killed one of my sister's commanders during the Reef Wars by dropping them in a volcano, tried to start a war between the Reef and the City when I was a kid…_ That was the first time he had heard of Della Tay; when she had killed his mother and left her body in a ditch with a torn Titan mark.

Whatever she had planned for Mara Sov, Queen of the awoken, the biggest prize she had ever retrieved…how else would she dispose of a Queen, other than making her the crown jewel of all her hits? She had already tried to start a war, she knew they'd recognize her ship; she could Kill Mara in any way she wanted. She would take Mara somewhere, somewhere to stage a momentous death, and _that's_ when he would save her; when she was out in the open, when they least expected it.

So he fallowed, using the debris as cover, for the time being. He would save his sister. He glared at the ship, only just visible, but always in sight. _You think you'll get away with this?_ He thought. _You thought a metal door was going to protect you? Perhaps you've immobilized the entire awoken fleet in the same way. Perhaps you thought that everything would go a smooth as possible; that you'd have the perfect kill, the ultimate murder._ But there was one thing that Della Tay hadn't counted on.

Him.

* * *

 **Happy birthday, everyone! here look; I got you a cliffhanger! And wow, Uldren's being dramatic. I know, I know; what a way to show my appreciation for all your reviewing, reading, following, and favoriteing, right? But hey; this was necessary...for my ego. I've got to keep you hooked somehow, right? I have to remind you that, just because it's comedy, I'm, still a literary genius who has plenty of adventures up her sleeves, right? I got to continue the show somehow, right?**

 **Man, that scene, where Uldren found out all that stuff about Silverhawk...I could almost** ** _literally_** **hear the theme for the Kree writing in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. playing.**

 **About random Della Tay; there was, originally, going to be this whole thing with Silverhawk and mind control and it was just going to be a big, feels-y mess. But then, I decided that she would only serve one purpose in this series; kidnapping the Queen. If she ever does return after this incident, then it would and will be after the Dysfunctional Fireteam** ** _The Taken King_** **. But yet again, continuation beyond The Taken King seems unlikely, as the death of the Queen would put Uldren in charge as King. And let's face it; Silverhawk may be, like, the** ** _best_** **character** ** _EVER_** **, but this story wouldn't function without him; they'd be the Un-functional Fireteam, for sure, without him and his rudness. Basically; we all hate him, but he's totally necessary. Unfortunately.**

 **A BIG shout out to my most faithful reviewers;** ** _Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant_** **, and** ** _MaybeALittleBroken_** **! Thanks you guys for all the support! And** ** _MaybeALittleBroken_** **, my friend; I shall remain working on this brilliant AU, but , my fellow AoS fan, I shall also be working a little on my AoS fanfic,** ** _All The Strange, Strange Creatures_** **. Warning; it IS a crossover with Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, so I suggest getting maybe at least a basic understanding of those character before reading, and if you decide to watch it... well, I personally suggest refraining from reading my fic until you at least finish season 5; otherwise, you'll be getting MAJOR spoilers, like SPOILER-VILLE SEEMS UNDERPOPULATED NOW kind of spoilers about Julian Bashir, Garak, Dukat-you know what, you'll be getting spoilers for everything, let's just leave it at that. #Triplives, #FUBlacklivesmatter - #AGENTlivesmatter #ComehomeQuicksilver #CoulsonLIVES #"nope"ashardasyoucansoyourdreamscometrue #ComehomeTrip #yougettheideaAoSfans**

 **The same goes for everyone else; SPOILERS-VILLE NEEDS A POPULATION GROWTH, NOOOOOOOWWWW!**

 **Anyway, thanks to all of you who read this thing; PLEASE I am BEGGING you to let me know what you think; do you want to see more Silverhawk and the gang? Do I need to tone the comedy back a little? Is this just going to be a cult favorite that nobody cares about? I know there are at least a few people who BREATH this fic(** ** _MaybeALittleBroken_** **, I'm looking at you) and NEED a few sequels in order to stay alive, but I want to know what the rest of the fandom thinks; the silent readers, so to speak, who never really review or critique or anything. I'm posting a small series of one-shots about Martin and Silverhawk's youth- how they met, a few events between the next fic and the one after that- and I have an idea in my head about a Martenj two-shot taking place sometime after the next fic, and sometime after that Martin/Silverhawk series ends(said one-shot series will introduce that Silverhawk love interest I was talking about earlier). Just as a warning for the future, so you can prepare yourselves emotionally ahead of time...that Martenj two-shot might just rip your hearts out. Or you'll died when you scroll down on fanfic mobile and read the last few paragraphs of the first chapter. O_O**

 **You know, when I first started imagining the world of this fic, it was going to be Uldren getting stuck with a heartbroken Huntress, and the town where the cure was hidden would be the one she died in...on her wedding day, just before the fateful "I do's", the groom's name being** ** _Martin_** **. Then, it evolved into Uldren getting stuck with a Huntress who had NO self-control, and more jokes, quips, and sarcastic comments than you can shake a stick at. They would take a side-trip along the way to rescue a Warlock captured for information by the Fallen or Cabal(that Warlock being Martin). It would just be Uldren and Silverhawk for all the adventure after that. But then, as I was writing chapter 3, I decided that Martin would be joining the duo on their journey after all, and I hastily added a line mentioning him. And thus our Dysfunctional Fireteam was officially born. from there, I was just winging it along the way, with just a basic understanding of where I wanted to go with this series, and now, here we are, at the end of our first adventure.**

 **By the way, you all might have noticed the little lines I put at the top of a chapter; like the one for this chapter references the original** ** _Destiny_** **game, and what the Stranger said at the end of it. What do you guys think of those little "intro lines"? I'm thinking of putting them in the next fic, but in a different format; something akin to the flavor text you get for story missions, something like that. What "intro line" format do you want to see next, or do you think I should stick to the old style(though, I** ** _am_** **telling you, I sometimes spend half an hour trying to think of a** ** _good_** **,** ** _poetic_** **intro line)? What do you think?**

 **Man, it's going to be weird, writing this next fic and the one after without Uldren's commentary. Almost surreal, actually, finishing my first fanfiction.**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 **I FINISHED A FANFICTION!?*Screams, rips hair out, ingests unhealthy amounts of caffeine, runs up wall, ceiling, gibbering madly, destroys house while Amberstar sits sipping tea and playing** ** _Destiny_** **like nothing's happening* I ACTUALLY FINISHED A FANFICTION!? This has NEVER happened to me before! Usually, I plan this GIANT, EPIC adventure, and then I write it a lot, and then I end up having to write for other stuff to keep the fans off my back, and then school gets in the way, and then I loose my steam for it, but THIS!? This is me, not talking about finishing a fanfiction, not talking about what will happen to the characters once the fanfiction is finished, but me,** ** _actually_** ** _finishing_** **a** ** _fanfiction_** **.**

 **For my combination of ADHD and Aspergers, it's a lot to say. We usually get obsessed with something for a period of time, like a year, or something, then we drop it. So I can't say that it will always be like this; me** ** _finishing_** **a** ** _fanfiction_** **in the space of two months. In fact, depending on certain factors, like the passage of time, the next few installments of this series might just get...you know,** ** _stuck_** **. I might just suddenly take up an obsession with** ** _A Tale of Grandeur_** **, and the next installment might never get started at all. But, it has been started. I started it the day of my last update, and I'll continue writing it over the summer.**

 **However, it will not be posted until the School year begins*PLEASE! DON"T KILL ME!* Now, at this point, you are either A)Checking how the American school year works and circling the date Hillsboro High Schools start up again in bright, horrific ink, or B)You are trying to locate my place of residence and buying plane tickets so you can murder me in my sleep. I hope you're all doing prediction "A", because if you're doing prediction "B"...I'm going to have to tell Amberstar to hide the secret documents and prepare for visitors again; really, when will the fandom learn? *Cocks shotgun***

 **Now, hear me out, those of you who are doing prediction "B"; I do this for a reason, Amberstar and I both. We spend all our vacation writing and writing and writing, loading the proverbial "update gun", and then when the school year begins, we have plenty of ammo in the mag, and more time to study, as we'll have less of a need to write for fanfiction. but updates this year will be slower; you have been warned. And I might not get as much of the next adventure written down as I would like, as I am writing a murder mystery for my Senior project this year; not a fanfiction, but an actual book, which I may or may not publish. That, and seeing as Aspergers disqualifies me from the Marine Corps, I have to find out what my NEW calling is. Writing, I may have a knack for, but they're called "starving artists" for a reason; nobody uses books these days, they just play on IPhones. Sure, you got all those reading websites, but so few people actually pick a physical book up...it's just sad, kind of really.**

 **Yeah, I know; teenager talking about "the good 'ol days"; weird, right? But I like old-fashioned things. They were cleaner, more durable; that's why they're still around to be called "old-fashioned". There won't be any "old-fashioned" IPhones twenty years from now; it's like, those things are** ** _designed_** **to break so you** ** _have_** **to buy a new one a year later.**

 **Order and Chaos - Qui Iudicant: I've had bad luck with Exotic engrams, so I just usually buy them directly; I'm a Hand cannon person, so Hawkmoon is my , I felt bad doing that to her. :( Poor Hawky. And YES! Shout that ship proud! That line...*wipes tear* 'twas beautiful. Thank you for you're support during this adventure, and I hope to see you joining us all for the next roller coaster of disaster!**

 **MaybeALittleBroken: Man, I fear for you when I get to the REAL feels-y parts. In fact...I might just have to put a special warning just for you at the top of that Martenj two-shot. Hehe, teachers; I know, right? But hey, at least us fanfic readers are doing something nerdy and creative, as apposes to the Instagram addicts. Heck, what am I talking about; I don't even have a phone! Meh, phones are over-ratted; all I need, is my preeeecious MP3.**

 **Now, you all hold on to you hats, because once summer is over, this ridiculous ride goes back into commission; and if my steam doesn't run out, this ride is going to get** ** _real_** **crazy,** ** _real_** **fast. As you can see by the over-2,500-words-Authors-note; finishing this fic is a** ** _big deal_** **. I've given you all I've got; I've poured my insanity into every ounce of craziness you've seen in this story, and I've left you all with a dramatic cliffhanger to fume over over summer vacation. Now...I suppose all that's left is to tell you what's next. ~Insert "Avengers" theme here~**

 **Introducing...**

 ** _Heartbusters_** **; coming Fall, 2016, to a Fanfiction website near you!**

 **I've given you all plenty to review about and drool over and speculate about; now it's time for a few last, final "fluff questions" for you to put at the ends of your hopefully long, epic, juicy reviews saying how much you liked this fic.**

 ***Pick you favorite scene/chapter: what music (instrumental or with lyrics, from the game or from somewhere else) did you hear in your head as that scene was happening?**

 ***Pick a character, any character; your favorite character, if you like. What song(instrumental or lyrics, etc.) would fit with that character a their theme, or best describe them? What song would fit which pair of characters best(i.e, Silverhawk and Martin, Uldren and Silverhawk on a Sparrow, etc.)**

 ***What would you say if I told you I was considering having a** ** _Fever_** **fan art contest, and the winner would get their art as the permanent cover art for this story(unless you're all terrible artists, LoL; that goes without saying)?(Contact me by PM, or Amberstar of Thunder on DeviantArt if you like the sound of that)**

 ***Based off of how other writers write their** ** _Destiny_** **fics,(incorporating the game mechanics into their writing, such as HUD's and health bars*shudders*, stuff like that), do you like how I write for** ** _Destiny_** **? Do you like my depiction of the** ** _Destiny_** **universe? Love it? Hate it? Or are you somewhere in the "meh" zone? Is my style refreshing and new, or do you not like how I write it like a novel universe? Cuz that's what my goal for this is; to write for** ** _Destiny_** **like the universe is a written work instead of a video game. It's hard, that's why most of my fics are based off books, like** ** _The Hobbit_** **, and** ** _Wings of Fire_** **, and I find particular difficulty writing for things that are** ** _only_** **movies or** ** _only_** **TV shows.**

 ***Who is your favorite character so far? Personally...I think that as the series goes on, we're going to have more than one Martin fangirl joining us on our adventure. He's my personal favorite, surprisingly enough. So timid and loyal! And I have a feeling that a lot of you will be jumping on the Martin Anton fanboat as you see more of him. It's always the shy one who get the most fanbase...**

 **By the way, if anyone needs some more syfy comedy, go check out Amberstar of Thunderclan's profile! I know I mention her a lot, she's a fellow fanfiction writer/avid artist with a focus on syfy and Star Trek, though she did do a REALLY depressing** ** _Destiny_** **one-shot the other month. Other than that, she's written quite a lot of comedy in what she has of her** ** _Sibling_** **re-write, and** ** _Why Dax Hates Pixies_** **is satisfying on a level I cannot describe; but her crown jewel, is the most hilarious thing EVER written in the HISTORY of fanfiction as a whole...** ** _Fish_** **. Even if you don't play Mass Effect...you NEED to read this one-shot; I** ** _guarantee_** **it cures cancer, or you money back.**

 **Anyway, now that you've all seen my writing style, perhaps you're a little impressed. Now, go check out my earlier works;** ** _River Tide_** **if you want some** ** _Hobbit_** **elfling antics and hilarious, out-of-control pranks and mischief.** ** _A Tale of Grandeur_** **if you want to hear the tale of an old Queen's lost war.** ** _Wings of Storm_** **if conspiracy and plotting are your fancy.** ** _The Rising Wind_** **if...man, lets just say "baby dragon cuteness overload", and leave it at that, okay?** ** _All the Strange, Strange Creatures_** **if you want to see the future go to war with the past. And, coming soon,** ** _Heartbusters_** **, if you can't get enough of action, drama, and feels. But while you're all waiting for the end of the year, I'll be working a little on** ** _15 Seconds_** **, a prequel/eventual sequel series of one-shots detailing the childhoods of Silverhawk and Martin! There might even be one or two cameos from younger versions of the awoken Royal Family and Petra! But be warned; the feels level on many parts of this fic might be unbearable for many of you.**

 **I should post it soon after this update, so go check it out! Warning, about Amberstar's** ** _Fish_** **, though; DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT eat or drink ANYTHING while reading this! I made that mistake, and I did a spit-take all over the keyboard...any maybe threw up a little apple juice. I'm seriously NOT kidding, here; this is serious. Please, just go visit my lonely friend, is what I'm saying; I'm afraid that she spends most of her time either A)Playing** ** _Destiny_** **, or B)Freaking out about finals, so she hasn't done much posting or writing lately. The Destiny binge is to cope with the stress of finals, and stressing out about finals is just a way to cope with the fact that nobody notices her fanfiction, and nobody notices her fanfiction because she's too busy playing Destiny to cope with the stress of her finals, which keeps her from writing because it's FREAKING FINALS! *pulls some more hair out**Throws herself at screen*** ** _PLEASE_** **! I'M LITERALLY BEGGING ON MY KNEES RIGHT NOW! SHE'S DRIVING ME CRAZY, SO JUST GO SAY NICE REVIEW ABOUT HER FICS SO SHE'LL QUIT FREAKING OUT!**

 **...and gives me a turn on the xbox...*sniffs***

 **Okay, so, let me know if I'm missing anything:**

 ***Dramatic cliffhanger: Check!^^**

 ***Over 2,000 word Authors note: Check!^^**

 ***Promotional content for my other fics and the next in this series: Check!^^**

 ***Promotional content for my besties' fics: Checka-mundo!^^**

 ***Request to take your time and write out a nice, long juicy response to everything about this chapter and in the author's note: CHECK!^^**

 **Well, I guess that's it then. This is Jayfeattheris Awesome, bringing you the end of an EPIC adventure, and starting something entirely new in it's place! Hope ya'll enjoyed this craziness, don't forget that long, juicy review I mentioned,** ** _and_** **, for the last time on** ** _Fever_** **...**

 **Cheers!^^**


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